


Starborn

by hafital



Series: Starborn and Stormbreaker [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Flying Horses, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve goes to Asgard, Thor makes everything better, Thundershield - Freeform, golden apples, major character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 08:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 45,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15239796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: As he walked, he wondered if sleeping through seventy years and then waking up to find almost everyone he’d ever known or loved gone was preferable to living through each loss. They both sucked, he decided, but he knew he wouldn’t have traded the last few decades for anything in the world.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big big thank you to killabeez for the beta! This story was a bear and a half to write and edit. Although this is 100% Steve/Thor, in terms of character arc, it is really Steve's journey. Part 1 is rough, guys. Bring a tissue. Take note of the major character death tag. I swear this has a happy ending, but it might not be for everyone. 
> 
> Each time I write an MCU story, I curse how many characters there are.

Part I 

The sudden absence of battle sounds hit Steve first. What happened to the alien army? How did it get so quiet? Like the very earth felt the loss, greater even than he did. 

Thor stood nearby looking down at the large axe he held, also too stunned to do more than stand in shock. It had been a hopeful moment, when Thor appeared. Even with how things ended, Steve was grateful. 

Steve couldn’t look at the spot where Bucky stood a moment ago. It was incomprehensible, and his mind simply skipped over it, but he felt a pressure building somewhere deep in his chest. Steve knelt beside Vision’s body, too stunned to do more than collapse onto the ground. Behind him Rhodes was asking for answers. 

Natasha made a soft noise and he looked at her, filled with relief to see her alive and beside him, until their eyes met. From their years together, he didn’t have to ask the question she answered with only the horror-filled pain that glazed her eyes. 

Sam? 

No. Gone. Barnes?

He shook his head. 

_Gone._

Darkness crowded the edge of his world. Both Sam and Bucky gone. And Wanda. And who else? The loss was overwhelming, threatening to drown out even the silence. Then a keening started, from somewhere near the battleground, giving voice to his heart. 

The beautiful voice joined with others, and Steve felt less alone. It was both a comfort and a horror because he realized, all of a sudden, as if they hadn’t kept saying it over and over again -- _he can do it with just a snap of his fingers, half the universe, gone_ \-- that his loss wasn’t a private pain. It wasn’t just his friends, his family. It wasn’t just those who died in battle. It wasn’t just the people of Wakanda. It was every city, every country across the globe, the entire planet. Every planet, every galaxy, the whole universe. It hadn’t hit him until that moment. The magnitude. “Oh, God.”

He struggled to breathe, his chest squeezing tight. He felt the serum rev into action, healing his many small wounds. It couldn’t heal this though, so what good was it?

The sun shone, faintly green through the leaves. Bucky had texted him constantly during the last year after they brought him out of cryo, about how beautiful Wakanda was, how lovely it was here. The trees, Steve. _The light, you gotta come and see the light._

It certainly was beautiful, even on this day. Steve raised his eyes to the canopy of leaves. The keening continued. 

He heard someone approach and looked up to see Thor. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off him. Thor set his axe down to kneel beside him. “Breathe,” he said to Steve. 

Steve’s eyes smarted. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, his chest both threatened to explode and threatened to cave in on itself. He breathed in, squeezed Thor’s forearm as hard as he could, his lungs inflating, sucking in air. Thor was unyielding and solid and reassuring. He hadn’t notice Thor’s mismatched eyes before. 

“What happened to your eye?” he asked, without thinking. 

“A long story,” said Thor, taking hold of Steve until they both stood. Steve didn’t want to let go. It was such a relief to have Thor there. “A story worthy of telling. But first, we have work to do.”

Leaves fell softly with the breeze, and Steve took another breath. He smelled life. All around. _So much life, Steve. You can’t believe._

Thor was watching him, waiting.

“This isn’t over,” said Steve. 

The axe snapped into Thor’s hand. “No it isn’t.” He gripped Steve’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Come, brother,” he said, and his voice cracked, his mismatched eyes shining. 

Thor’s anger and pain mirrored Steve’s own, and it gave him strength. He didn’t know how. He didn’t much believe. But they had to try. You get killed, you walk it off.

With Thor by his side, he turned to Natasha, and then faced Rhodes and Bruce and the others that were filtering in through the trees.

*

Steve learned the talking raccoon’s name was Rocket, as he become increasingly agitated. “I have to find Quill,” he said over and over again, beginning to freak out. “I have to find the other Guard--” he abruptly stopped, frozen mid-sentence.

It was strange to see such pain and emotion in a raccoon’s eyes, the shock settling in. Steve understood enough of the situation to know that Rocket’s friends were another team, out there in space, and that they had been fighting Thanos, too. 

Steve turned to Thor. “Do you think his friends are still…” He couldn’t finish his question. Is that how it would be? A series of un-finished questions, everyone too afraid to receive the answer. “Tony is… was--” He took a breath. “Tony is out there, too. He was taken, on one of those circular alien ships.”

They had gathered on the battlefield. The keening continued, now sung by all the Wakandan army. Those who remained of the king’s guard and the Dora Milaje stirred into action, gathering and subduing what remained of the alien army. Bruce exited the hulkbuster suit and began treating the wounded. They had won this battle, but lost so much more. Steve couldn’t see T’Challa anywhere, and he turned sharply to Natasha who sadly shook her head. 

Thor gripped his shoulder, bringing Steve’s focus back to him. “I will take Rabbit, and discover the fate of the other Morons. And Stark, too, and anyone else…” he paused. “And I will return.”

“Thor, wait,” said Steve, pretending like that sentence made any sense, but when Thor turned to look at him he didn’t know what to say. Thor needed to leave. If there was even a chance that Tony lived, they had to find him, and the Parker kid as well. And they needed reinforcements. But Thor had only just returned, and he was leaving again. “Your people. Asgard, can they help?”

He saw the light leave Thor’s face. Steve couldn’t get used to Thor’s eyes. “Asgard is destroyed,” said Thor, flatly, but his jaw muscles clenched. “My people are…they cannot help. My father is dead. And Thanos killed Loki.”

“What?” said Steve, startled, horrified. But, he understood now why Thor looked so changed, and he didn’t just mean his hair and his eyes. In all the years Steve had known him, he’d seen Thor angry, happy or sad, but consistently robust and bursting with good health and godly immortality. He’d never seen him tired, not like this. 

Thor stared into the distance. “I failed here,” he said. “I alone could have stopped Thanos, and I failed.”

Steve shook his head. “Thor, there’s no failure. This isn’t something you fail at. You have to… stand back up again. Even if you think you can’t. You get back up. You fight back. There’s no failure. There’s no time for that. And if we’re going to beat him, we do it together. No man can do it alone.”

Thor studied him and his face softened, losing some of the etched in pain and regret. “So says the captain,” he said, with a bow of his head and a small smile. “I’ll take your words with me, my friend.”

He pulled Steve into a hard bruising embrace that squeezed the air out of Steve’s lungs, before he gathered Rocket up and onto his shoulder. Thor raised his axe into the air, and locked eyes with Steve. “I will return,” he said before disappearing into a blaze of rainbow light. 

~~

It was a series of shocks, one right after another. 

The Wakandans not only lost their king but the Princess Shuri as well. Steve watched the queen mother, tall and regal even under the crushing weight of her loss. She stood before the warrior M’Baku, with General Okoye beside her, and went down to her knees. “You are king now.”

A breeze blew through the plaza courtyard where they stood, the surrounding buildings mostly undamaged by the battle. The sky was the same unyielding blue, slowly darkening into evening. “No,” said M’Baku, and he took both her hands in his, lifting her up. 

The queen cupped his face and shook her head, taking hold of him. “You must take the crown,” she insisted. “For Wakanda.”

M’Baku struggled but then nodded and he stood straighter, turning to Okoye. “Will you assist these outsiders?” he asked, indicating where Steve stood with Natasha and Rhodes. Bruce was still helping the wounded. “I will see to the people.”

“Yes, my king,” she said, proudly but with tears. 

They followed the General into the palace, through several corridors until they entered what Steve quickly understood to be the Wakandan version of a situation room. The technology was unfamiliar, to say the least, but Natasha was a quick study, and soon she and Okoye were pulling up data streams from across the globe. 

Natasha tried contacting Nick Fury, and then tried to reach Maria Hill, but couldn’t get through to either, her green eyes locked on Steve’s as she tried calling Nick again. Ice-cold dread bit hard into Steve’s spine. He didn’t want to jump to the worst conclusion, but there was no avoiding the most likely reason they couldn’t reach either. 

Rhodes also tried his contacts, getting intermittent success. No one knew what was going on. Most of the world had only just begun to realize there had been another alien attack at all let alone that half the population was gone. Steve began combing through the news reports. 

Two planes had crashed mid-air, most others making emergency landings. All air flight was suspended. There were unconfirmed reports that the President of the United States was missing, and they couldn’t verify the location of the Vice President. A Chinese news program began listing each country with missing rulers, major accidents, rioting. 

“We have to get back,” he said, watching news footage of a subway collision in New York City, everyone standing around dazed, while in Washington D.C. a fire burned through parts of Capitol Hill. “Get a team together. Start forming a plan.”

“Steve,” said Rhodes, frustrated. “What can possibly be done now? Thanos is gone. We don’t know where he is, or how to get there even if we did. Tony’s gone. Thor’s gone.”

“Thor said he’d return. We should be ready for him. And I don’t know,” said Steve, equally frustrated. “But I know we have to do something, and that’s not going to happen with us standing around in shock.”

He could see that Rhodes wanted to argue, but there was really nothing else for them to do. They could stay in Wakanda where at least they knew they’d be welcomed, but Steve was reluctant to put more demands on…he thought of T’Challa, and shut down that thinking. “I’m going back, even if I have to go alone.”

Rhodes sighed, and rolled his eyes. “All right, man. I’m with you.”

Natasha didn’t bother to answer Steve -- she hadn’t been speaking much at all -- but merely locked her weapons in place. 

“When do we leave?” asked Okoye, who had been watching them closely. 

Steve turned to her. “General, your people need you here.” 

She raised her hand to politely cut him off. “When the king asked that I assist you, what he meant was I go with you and do whatever can be done to return our people whole, if that is possible, if there is any chance. So, if that means, if you plan to go after this Thanos, then, I go where you go.”

He studied her, then nodded. “Well, I have no doubt we could use you. Thank you.”

She nodded back. 

“Wheels up in an hour,” he said. “Let’s get what we need.”

An hour later two separate jets rose into the air, the General and three more of the Dora Milaje opting to fly in their own jet separate from the Avengers. The jets moved in tandem, soaring higher. 

The flight back seemed longer than before. No one spoke, Rhodes busying himself with flying the jet while Bruce and Natasha avoided each other awkwardly. Bruce sat in a corner, his head in his hands. 

Steve approached Natasha, more than a little worried about her. “Hey,” he said, trying to smile when she looked up. Everything he normally would have said or asked in a moment like this seemed ludicrous now. _How are you feeling? What’s going on?_ He knew what was going on. He knew what she was feeling. So he stood nearby, swaying closer to her with the too familiar jet turbulence. After a moment, she took his hand, and held on tight. 

“I got a hold of Clint,” she said, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the quinjet engines. “He’s coming in.”

Hope surged, and he felt a real burst of relief and happiness that Barton was still alive. “Oh my God, that’s great.”

She gave him a tight smile and nodded, but her eyes were haunted and they just about killed him when he saw her pain. “Laura’s gone, though. And so are the kids.”

Another gut punch, leaving him breathless. Would they end? He knew she loved those kids, and gently pulled her closer until she pressed her forehead against his chest, her hands gripping into his uniform for support. He cupped the back of her head, carding his fingers through her hair. He didn’t notice her blonde hair anymore, although when she’d first changed it, it had taken him weeks to get used to it. He looked up and caught Bruce watching, but Bruce skidded his eyes away. 

A few hours later, they landed at Avengers Headquarters, meeting up with Okoye and the other Dora Milaje who land their jet on the next pad over. 

What staff remained on premises watched their procession through the building, no one speaking until one man Steve vaguely remembered from before ran up to Rhodes. “Sir. Secretary Ross...” he started. “He’s ordered us to…”

Rhodes glanced at Steve, but no one stopped walking until they got to the conference room. Ross’s hologram turned as they entered, eyeing each of them in turn. “So,” he started. “Here you all are.”

“Mr. Secretary, sir. What’s the status?” asked Rhodes. 

“The status?” asked Ross, turning casually away and wandering around the room in his holographic form. “The status, colonel, is that the President, Vice President, and the Speaker of the House are all missing. I’m being sworn in, in an hour. That’s the status.”

Beside Steve, he heard Bruce say, “Oh God,” softly. Steve wasn’t surprised at this point, but it was a hard blow. 

“I’m sorry,” said Rhodes. 

“I’ll need a full report on whatever the hell you all did to get us into this mess,” said Ross. “But first,” and he made a gesture, looking beyond where they stood to the guards entering the floor. “In my capacity as President, I’m having Captain Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Bruce Banner arrested.”

The Dora Milaje stepped in front of Steve and Natasha, poised to start fighting. Despite their show of force, the security guards hesitated. There used to be several guards on staff, but there was only two now. Bruce looked aghast, shocked. Rhodes raised his voice, trying to speak to Ross, but Ross was yelling at the guards, ordering them to obey.

Steve turned to the image of Ross’s hologram. “You’re seriously going to arrest us? Now? There’s rioting in the streets, and you waste time and energy and resources going after us? These men could be in the city saving lives right now.”

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you,” said Ross, and Steve bit back his anger. “This is your fault, and you’re going to answer for it. Arrest them.”

The men hesitated again. They knew, even if Ross didn’t, that they couldn’t hope to detain Captain America or Black Widow, not to mention their fear of approaching Bruce.

In the beat of silence that followed, Okoye stepped forward. She hadn’t reacted when Ross gave his order for the arrest, letting her guards stand to protect Steve. “Excuse me,” she said, and for the first time since they had entered the room, Ross rested his eyes on her, looking her up and down. “I am General Okoye, and I am here as a representative of the Kingdom of Wakanda. This man,” she said, indicating Steve, “is a citizen of Wakanda, and a diplomat, and therefore protected under diplomatic immunity. And so is Miss Romanoff. I have the papers, should you need them.”

No one spoke. Steve, as shocked as everyone else, took in a breath, and watched Ross digest this new twist. He could see Ross thinking it through, weighing his options. Since T’Challa had opened Wakanda to the rest of the world, serious trade negotiations had begun between Wakanda and the United States. It would not look good for the Secretary, if he messed that up. 

Ross’s hologram approached Steve. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you?” he asked. “Arrest them anyway. We’ll sort it out later.”

The Dora Milaje, Natasha, and Rhodes all reacted, ready to fight, but before anyone on either side could make a move, lightning poured in, causing the security guards to be thrown backward. Rainbow-colored light filled the room from above, the Bifrost depositing Thor holding Tony, Rocket riding his shoulders, and someone new, a woman with multi-colored blue skin and jet-black eyes. 

Thor let go of Tony, who barely managed to stand on his own. His eyes were white lightning, and lightning sparked in all directions, wrapped around him and around his axe. 

“Have I returned at a bad time?” he asked, without humor. “You humans never cease to amaze me.” Most of the lightning subsided, but his eyes remained white fire. Thor squeezed Steve’s shoulder as he walked toward Ross’s hologram. “That you continue to treat your champions with disdain and distrust. If you don’t stop that, it will be your undoing.”

Ross, thrown off his game once again, tried to stand up straighter. “Are you threatening us?”

Thor paused, then said, “Yes.”

“You have no authority here,” said Ross. “You have no rights.”

Tony stumbled forward. “Um,” he said, “Hi. Hi there. Hello everyone. Mr. Secretary. If I can just have a moment, if you don’t mind? Let me put you--”

“Tony, no!” said Ross, forcibly, like he was scolding his dog.

“Put you on hold. Just for a sec,” said Tony, making a quick hand gesture. Ross, still loudly protesting, suddenly disappeared as a voice overhead said in a cool tone, “Call on Hold.”

Everyone stared at each other, too stunned to speak. Thor’s lightning show ended and he looked like himself again. Then Tony clutched his side and made a small noise of pain. Steve took hold of his arm, guiding him to a chair. “Tony, you’re hurt.”

“Hey Cap,” he said. “Good to see you.”

“What happened?” asked Steve, looking from Tony, to Thor, to the blue woman, then back around again, trying to get a look at Tony’s wound. “How bad is it?”

“Well,” said Tony, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Not sure where to start.”

Then, a noise came from behind and they all turned. As a final surprise, Clint Barton stood framed by the hallway. “I’m here,” he said. “Got here as soon as I could.”

Natasha rushed forward and into his arms, and then Steve and Thor, and finally Bruce helping Tony, went to him and the six original Avengers stood together for the first time in too many years.

*

Nebula, daughter of Thanos, told them where Thanos was most likely to be found, on a lonely planet in a distant galaxy. Rocket contacted everyone he knew, which was a lot of different people across the universe, and told them where to go, from the Ravagers to the Nova Corps to The Sovereign, and they each in turn told everyone they knew, and so on. Thor rallied the forces of the Nine Realms, even the Jotenheim, and with Stormbreaker brought the Avengers joined by the Dora Milaje, Carol Danvers, and anyone else brave enough to fight, right to Thanos’s doorstep. Only Rhodes remained on Earth, one Avenger to protect it.

They fought hard, but Thanos was impossible to beat. But, he didn’t use the full power of the Stones again, and Steve thought he must be afraid of it. Only Steve and Thor could get close enough, fighting through shifting reality, the ravages of pure power, through the changing landscape of time, until even Thanos needed a break. 

“You think you can wear the gauntlet? You’re all fools. None of you have the strength. I have half a mind to let you try,” said Thanos, facing Thor. “Just for the pleasure of watching it drive you insane.”

His words were met with a heavy silence. A breeze whistled past, like a song. This planet had a fuchsia-tinged sky similar to an Earth sunrise, a jeweled landscape. Steve wanted to turn to Bucky and say, “Hey Buck, check it out. We’re on a different planet. We’re light years from Earth. Look at us.” But he couldn’t do that. 

“Sanity is a small price to pay,” said Thor, gripping his axe. 

Steve sensed his fellow Avengers nearby. Tony’s injury wouldn’t heal and Bruce couldn’t change, so they fought together, as did Natasha and Clint. All around, on this singular and strange world they found themselves on for the final battle, he saw warriors and fighters at the end of their strength, but they fought as one. Steve locked eyes with Thor, and then started to circle around Thanos.

“Maybe we’re stronger than you think, the whole of us together,” said Steve, speaking to Thanos but with his eyes on Thor. “None of us are afraid to die for our friends.”

“That’s very noble,” said Thanos. “And you’ve certainly proved that.”

“You still don’t understand,” said Steve walking with the last of his strength, timing his words, lifting his gaze to his fellow Avengers. All six surrounded Thanos. “The difference between taking, and giving.”

Without another word, Steve charged, leaping on Thanos from behind in a chokehold, taking hold of the gauntlet. He expected Thanos to use the Stones again, but managed to hold the gauntlet open. Tony, Natasha, Bruce and Clint rushed forward to help. Thanos tried to throw him off, but all Steve had to do was twist Thanos’s head to the side long enough. Thor yielded Stormbreaker, and he cleaved through Thanos from neck to chest, nearly severing his arm. A shock of power, like a sound wave, threw them back, and the gauntlet fell from Thanos with a clunk to the ground. 

There was a hushed silence. Even the breeze grew still. Thor approached the gauntlet and picked it up. It was too large for him, and damaged, but as he put his fist inside, it shrank to fit. Steve held his breath. Natasha, Tony, Bruce and Clint all stood with him. Nothing happened. 

A dry laughter started. Thanos, still alive somehow although his head and left shoulder hung awkwardly from his body. “The soul stone requires a sacrifice before you can use it. You must kill someone you love. Whom will you choose?” asked Thanos, his voice garbled, trying to stand up. He almost fell again but managed to find balance, his head askew. 

“Whom will you choose?” he asked again, and this time his voice reverberated, echoing through the valley and across the battlefield. It carried the weight of the Infinity Stones behind it. It wasn’t Thanos speaking anymore, but something else, something greater. 

Thor looked from the gauntlet on his hand, the metal smoking and charred. It didn’t look like it would hold together for long. They might only have one chance at this, one chance to reverse the snap and fix what Thanos had done. 

The soul stone required a sacrifice. Of someone you loved.

Thor lifted his gaze, and his eyes met Steve’s. Steve let out a breath, and felt every inch of his body relax. He nodded. It felt right, and it felt true. This was it. Thor’s eyes glimmered, and then they shifted from Steve to where Natasha stood -- she who never left his side. And then, Thor looked to where Tony stood, and Bruce, and Clint. 

Steve was ready, he would be the one. Tony would have done it. Neither Natasha nor Clint would have hesitated for a moment. But it was Bruce who stepped forward. 

“Hey guys,” said Bruce, just above a whisper. “Do what you can to hold him back, all right? And I love you.” He looked first to Natasha, and then to each of them. “All of you. Remember that.”

At first, Steve didn’t understand. What did he mean, hold him back? Hold who back? But as Bruce walked forward, changing fluidly into the Hulk, he understood all too well.

“Bruce?” asked Tony, with fear and alarm. “What are you doing? No. No no, come back here.” 

Tony’s helmet swiftly covered his face, his thrusters started, but Steve and Natasha and Clint grabbed him. “Tony,” said Steve. “He’s made his choice.”

“No,” yelled Tony, fighting to get free. Even with three of them holding Tony they barely managed. “Bruce,” he said, his mask disappearing, “You bastard.” 

But Bruce was gone, and there was only Hulk. Steve looked down at Natasha. She turned away, hiding her face.

The Hulk stood in front of Thor who gazed at him. The others, Rocket and Okoye, Nebula, and everyone else, gathered around, each holding their breath. In the sky above them, ships hovered nearby. Everyone was watching. The light stung Steve’s eyes. 

“Hulk go,” said Hulk to Thor, a big fist to his chest.

Thor shook his head, smiling and crying. “No, my friend. No. Thor go. Hulk stay.”

Hulk rested his big hand on Thor’s shoulder, shaking him, bring him in for a crushing hug. “Thor stay. Hulk go.” He held Thor in his large hands so he could look at him. “Do it,” he said.

Tony continued to yell, struggling against Steve and Natasha and Clint. Through tears, Thor kept shaking his head, holding on to Hulk’s enormous arms.

“I must go,” said Hulk, lifting Thor’s face up. “Big monster.”

Thor laughed, a pained laugh, and then he nodded and pushed Hulk away. It was the action that was needed. 

Hulk turned once more to face the Avengers. “Friends,” he said, to each of them. Then, with a mighty roar, he charged at Thanos, reaching for Stormbreaker where it had fallen. In that moment, by the grace of his sacrifice, Hulk was able to lift the axe. He swung it hard, slicing through Thanos at the same time that Thanos cut through Hulk’s neck. 

The two huge bodies fell, shaking the ground, and then were still. The fight went out of Tony, and he slumped in Steve’s arms, pulling away. Everyone else held their breath, all eyes on Thor. Thor closed his left fist. There was a blinding light, bursting through his body, cracking his skin open. The light grew and grew, until everything was white and still and gone.

When Steve opened his eyes again, the sky was clear of pink clouds, and the flower-scented breeze returned. Steve picked himself off the ground where he had fallen, and then turned to help Natasha stand. Clint was grunting beside him. 

“Steve?” 

Steve whipped his head around and saw Bucky standing there, looking really confused. “Oh my God, Bucky,” said Steve.

Nearby, Sam got up from the ground, brushing off dirt, looking around at their surroundings. “Anyone mind tell me what the hell is going on?” asked Sam.

They did it. He did it. Steve hugged Bucky, and then he clung to Sam. With a smile he stepped aside so that Natasha could hug Sam but she stood transfixed, staring at the spot where the Hulk had fallen. And then he saw Wanda, who was smiling but also looking around with searching eyes. “Where’s Vision?” she asked. 

Steve’s relief and happiness stuttered to a grinding halt. Thor hadn’t moved from where he stood. Tony and Natasha walked to where the two bodies of Thanos and Hulk lay. But it wasn’t Hulk anymore. In death, he’d changed back to Bruce. 

Everyone was silent as they watched Tony kneel beside Bruce’s body. He looked up at Thor and said, “Bring him back.”

Thor’s eyes were white with lightning again, and he glowed from the inside, pulsing with power as if he might turn entirely into a ball of lightning, and then that’s all he would be. 

“Thor,” said Tony, insisting. “Bring him back. You have the gauntlet. You can do it. Bring him back.”

Thor looked from the damaged gauntlet to Tony, then back to the gauntlet. The metal was charred and smoking, broken in places and cracked. 

“Thor,” yelled Tony, more desperate. “Look at me. You bring him back. Thor!”

Had Thor grown bigger? Taller? He seemed suddenly enormous, larger than before. A trick of the light, but Steve realized that within him, Thor contained the entire power of the cosmos. In that moment, he could do whatever he wanted, be whatever he wanted. Would he become like Thanos? Would he remake the universe as he saw fit? Everyone watched in fear, wondering what would happen next. Had they escaped Thanos, only to fall to another tyrant? 

Steve stepped forward, gravel crunching under his feet. Thor turned his attention from Tony to him. It was difficult to know if their eyes met, but Steve knew Thor was looking at him, he could feel it like the sun on his face. 

Perhaps using the mind stone, Thor spoke to him. 

_Are you afraid of me? The others are afraid._

Steve shook his head. _No._

Thor sighed. The line of tension in his shoulders relaxed. _I have to make a terrible choice. The stones require a sacrifice._

“Then you better make it,” he said, out loud. 

Thor, more god than man, nodded. 

“What are you doing?” asked Tony, looking from Steve to Thor. “Come on. Bring him back!” He stood, his suit closing around him, but then a tall man with piercing blue eyes and a fiery cape -- he could only be Dr. Strange -- stepped into his path. With one look from him, the fight went out of Tony. “Don’t do this,” he begged, but he turned away.

Thor didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to lift into the air, raising his left arm with the gauntlet. He cried out in terrible pain and closed his fist. The gauntlet and the stones shattered in an explosion to rival the big bang. 

There was one suspended moment when everything stopped, one entirely frozen second when the universe was put on hold. Then Steve breathed in with a gasp, as if he hadn’t been breathing before. Sound snapped back into existence with a loud POP. 

Steve shook his head to clear it. Around him, everyone looked dazed, stumbling around trying to find their balance. 

Thor was on the ground, heaving into the dirt. Steve crouched beside him. The skin of Thor’s left hand and arm was blackened. Then it changed from charred to an almost gold and then to a rainbow hue. He looked into Thor’s mismatched eyes as his hand changed once more into the lightly tanned skin that matched the rest of him.

“Where’s the gauntlet?” asked Tony. 

With a sigh, Thor answered. “Destroyed,” he said, his voice rough. “The gauntlet was at its end. I had to choose. Use it to destroy the Infinity Stones, or…” he didn’t end his sentence. “The Infinity Stones would have consumed us. All of us. I had to put an end to it.”

“You could have brought him back,” said Tony, but there was no fight in him anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” said Thor, and Steve could see he was entirely aware that those words were not enough, and they would never be enough. 

Steve understood. The snap had been reversed, but everyone Thanos had killed before and after wouldn’t be coming back. Natasha held Wanda, who hid her face with her hair.

No one spoke. One by one the spaceships overhead vanished. Steve noticed that Rocket and Nebula were reunited with the other Guardians, but the tall human-looking man with them was crying, inconsolable. The Parker kid hovered near Tony, who wouldn’t leave Bruce’s side. 

Nebula walked over, looking murderous and filled with fury. Steve braced for a fight, but she merely stared at Thanos’s body and then spit on it, before kneeling to tear a piece of his armor off for herself, apparently as a trophy. She looked at Tony, and then at everyone else. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

Tony covered his face, unable to answer, so Steve answered for him. “And we’re sorry for yours. You have our thanks.” 

She nodded, her movements jerky, as if her mechanical parts weren’t working quite right. Beside him, Bucky stared at her with wonder. She returned to the Guardians, moving in their own family unit back to their waiting ship. 

One by one everyone left until those from Earth were the last standing on the planet. Eventually, Tony stood up. The Dora Milaje, with a returned T’Challa, carried Bruce. Dr. Strange neatly disposed of Thanos. And then there was nothing left to do but return to Earth. The remaining Avengers assembled, but they would never be six together again. 

~~

With a quiet word to Thor, Steve asked they be returned first to Wakanda. He felt it only right that T’Challa be reunited with his people, and with T’Challa’s assistance in diplomacy, maybe he and the others could approach the U.S. government in a way that didn’t end up with everyone arrested the moment they landed in Avenger’s headquarters. 

The rush of the Bifrost left them huddled together in the center of the palace courtyard, a beautiful Wakandan morning blessing the land with the sun rising over the mountains. Steve watched the queen mother emerge from the palace, stately and serene but with her face full of surprised joy. She cried when T’Challa took her in his arms, the Princess Shuri squished between them and the warrior M’Baku beaming from the side, clapping T’Challa hard enough to send him reeling sideways.

They placed Bruce on a force field protected gurney, under a shroud, the gurney hovering over the ground. Tony sat on one side of him, and Thor sat on the other side, neither willing to leave. 

Dr. Strange moved his hand in a circle, and a portal appeared. He disappeared through it without a word but returned a few minutes later with Laura Barton and Clint’s children. Clint had to sit down in the middle of the courtyard, tears streaming down his face, trying to hold all three of his kids at once. Natasha hugged Laura, and then took the girl, Lila, into her arms and held on tightly. 

Dr. Strange disappeared for a second and third time, returning first with May Parker and a boy named Ned, and then again with Nick Fury and Maria Hill. 

Even Bucky had his reunion, several Wakandan children running up to him yelling, “The White Wolf returns!” They hugged him and tried to climb all over him, chattering in a mixture of Xhosa and English. Bucky smiled bemusedly, still inherently cautious but letting them play. 

Apparently finished with his tasks, Dr. Strange approached Steve. “I’ll be leaving now,” he said. “It’s time I returned to the Sanctum. God only knows what Wong’s been up to in my absence.” He paused, looking to where Tony and Thor sat with the body that lay between them. Dr. Strange struggled for a moment, his gaze lingering over Tony like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind. 

He nodded at Steve. “Goodbye. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” he said, then opened another portal and stepped through. 

Steve turned to Sam and gave him a look. Sam lifted an eyebrow and shook his head, equally baffled. They shared that easy camaraderie they always had, and then it struck Steve, that he could do that. It was that simple. He could turn and find Sam right there, by his side the way he had been from pretty much the moment they’d met. He thought, God, what a privilege, to have Sam beside him like he always was. The reality of the last several weeks came crushing down on him. 

“Oh, hey,” said Sam, taking hold of Steve. “Come on now, man. You gotta hold it together for me. We’re in Wakanda. We got royals and stuff looking at us.”

“Sam,” said Steve, taking a breath. He wiped at his eyes, and before he could stop himself, he looked over at Thor. “You have no idea what it was like.”

“I guess I don’t,” said Sam, solemn-eyed. “And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, and tried to smile. 

They continued to watch the various reunions, but Steve couldn’t get rid of the tinge of sadness that dampened the air like a mist. Nick and Maria convened with Carol Danvers, Clint and Natasha, and Steve felt he should go to them, start planning what their next steps would be, but he couldn’t make himself move too far from where Thor and Tony kept their vigil. 

Tony either hadn’t seen or chose to ignore Bucky’s presence, keeping his head down while he kept one hand on the gurney. Steve noticed Thor opening and closing his left fist. 

Eventually, Princess Shuri approached Tony. “Mr. Stark. If you would come with me? We will make sure he is honored. And I can see to your wounds.”

Tony flicked his gaze at Steve and Thor, and then nodded to Shuri. In a solemn procession, he walked unaided next to the gurney that carried Bruce into the palace.

Thor didn’t go with them. He stood and gazed at the sky as if he intended to open the Bifrost and leave, but instead with shining eyes he smiled at Steve before turning to greet Maria and Nick. 

“My people will be here in a day or two,” said Thor, looking again at the sky. 

“Your people?” asked Steve. “They’re coming here?”

He nodded. “We are homeless now. When Thanos sought the Tesseract, he killed half my people, before he killed Loki, and Heimdall. The remaining Asgardians escaped. They’re under the care of someone I trust. I sent them here, but it takes time, to travel that distance. They should be here tomorrow, or maybe the day after.”

Steve digested this bit of information, wondering what Earth was going to do with a shipload of Asgardian refugees needing to be re-homed. For a moment, he entertained thoughts of hosting the Asgardians at Avengers headquarters, trying to remember how many guest quarters they had. 

Thor read Steve’s thoughts easily, and he smiled but shook his head. “No. That was my original plan, to seek refuge for Asgard here on Earth. I think my father would have wanted that.” Thor gazed out to the Wakandan landscape that still bore marks from the recent battle. “Asgard is not a place, it’s a people. But,” and he turned back to Steve, shook his head again. “I’m not sure that’s a good plan anymore.”

Steve swallowed. “So what will you do?” he asked. 

Thor shrugged. “Search for a new home. My people are resourceful. We’ll find a way. But we could use Earth’s help. We have nothing. We need raw materials -- food, even livestock, if it can be spared.”

Steve spoke to T’Challa. Arrangements were made, and a stockpile of goods began to collect in the courtyard. Thor explained that what Asgard really needed were genetic samples, for easier transport. “We are traveling in small ships, there isn’t a lot of space. And there’s no telling how long it’ll be before we find a home.” 

With Shuri’s help, cryo pods filled with genetic material for flora and fauna -- land, sea, and air -- and anything else they could think of that could be of use were added to the stockpile, including technology, farming equipment, weapons, tools. 

It began to dawn on Steve, what this meant, that Thor would be leaving, maybe even for good this time. 

In the morning, three ships entered Earth’s orbit. With the world still recovering, there was a collective, “oh God, not again” that rippled through everyone, but it became quickly apparent that these were friendlies and not any threat. Only one of the ships landed, a multi-colored circular vessel, setting down neatly in the busy Wakandan courtyard, hissing with the hydraulic release of landing gear. 

The remaining Avengers, except for Tony, gathered around Thor, as did T’Challa and a few of the Dora Milaje, and Nick and Maria. 

A woman emerged from the ship, her dark hair flowing over light colored armor and a jeweled blue cape. “Your Majesty,” she said with a hint of a smirk at Thor when he walked up to greet her. But the smirk disappeared when she looked more closely at his face. 

“Valkyrie,” he said, “These are my friends, the Avengers. Valkyrie is…” and he paused. “She is the fiercest warrior, and protector of Asgard.”

The woman rolled her eyes, but she accepted everyone’s introductions with a funny hand wave. A moment later, a large, blueish creature made from rocks emerged from the ship. Everyone sort of stared, until the rock man caught sight of Thor, and cried out happily, “Oh look, new Doug, you’re alive,” and then bent to hug Thor in what looked like a very painful embrace. 

Thor said his rock friend’s name was Korg. He, and a few other Asgardians began loading up the ship with the stockpiled goods. Korg kept breaking off pieces of himself to give as presents to the Wakandan children, and to Barton’s kids. “There you go,” he said. “Take care of those for me. Stay out of trouble. Don’t do drugs.”

Soon, the ship was loaded, and Korg and the other Asgardians disappeared inside. Valkyrie waited by the ship at a respectful distance, as Thor stood in front of the Avengers. 

“My friends,” said Thor. “It is time I said goodbye.”

“Why do I get the sense we’ll never see you again?” said Natasha, her arms folded across her chest.

In the morning sun, Thor seemed to shed some of his sorrow, and he smiled gently at her. “My people need me now, and you are all well able to defend and protect yourselves, far better than I can. Your troubles, from what I can see ahead, are those brought on by internal conflicts. I cannot help with those. But I promise, if any should threaten Earth, I will return and fight beside you. Always. You are under my protection, for whatever that’s worth. Come, let us part like family.”

Thor pulled Natasha in for a hug first, and then Clint. He paused then, because Tony hadn’t come down to say goodbye, so he looked up at the palace instead, nodding silently. He then shook hands with Sam and Bucky, Nick and Maria, and then the Wakandans who gathered. Finally, he turned to Steve. 

Steve let himself be engulfed in Thor’s embrace, closing his eyes. He wasn’t prepared to say goodbye, but he knew Thor had to look after his own people. It would do Steve good, to think of Thor forging a new life for the Asgardians. He didn’t want to be selfish, wanting Thor to stay on Earth. 

Thor cupped the back of Steve’s head, then turned his head so he could speak into his ear. “When you’re ready, brother,” he said, and this time his voice didn’t crack. “All you need do is say my name out loud. Remember.”

Then, he let Steve go, and turned to his ship and to the waiting Valkyrie. Steve wondered if he was the only one that noticed the tension Thor carried, the strain on his face, and the small crease of concern that appeared on Valkyrie’s face as she took his arm and they disappeared together into the ship. 

A minute later, the ship rose gracefully into the air, rising to join the others, and then all three vanished into the morning sun. 

~~

They called it the Thanos Generation. 

All told, it had taken less than a month between the Snap and the Fall of Thanos, but the damage that month caused ran deep and wide and engulfing -- a cut so profound in humanity’s psyche that the psychological effects would not be fully understood for decades. 

It was like an open fissure where, on one side stood all those that were left behind after the Snap, and on the other side stood those that were taken and then returned -- the left behind and the taken. For the taken, although weeks of relative time had passed between the Snap and the Fall of Thanos, to them it had been only mere moments of non-existence. Yet, the void of that non-existence crept into their lives: that they could be erased so easily, that life was this fragile layer of reality. 

For the left behind, they had to live with the horror, with the unprocessed grief they couldn’t do anything with, because after all, those taken had come back -- it’s not like they were killed, it’s not like they had died and were gone forever. Get over it. Everything was fine now, wasn’t it?

Relationships suffered. Marriages collapsed. Friendships ended. Families combusted. Even business partnerships felt the effects. There was a noticeable uptick in substance abuse, mental illness, teenage pregnancies, petty violence. It affected the economy, Wall Street, international relations, the job market. Hollywood produced film after film, novels were written centered around the Snap with characters lost inside an existential crisis. Documentaries, non-fiction, news articles, conspiracy theories, religions, cults. 

There were people who stood on bridges, on the rooftops of skyscrapers, staring into the void. 

Steve noticed the ripple effect but was helpless to do anything about it, and he tried to stay removed from it even as he heard that Tony and Pepper called off their wedding, and that Clint and Laura had separated. The truth was he wasn’t immune either. 

After the Fall of Thanos, T’Challa continued the process to provide sanctuary to Steve and Bucky, as well as to Sam and Natasha and Wanda as needed. Bucky Barnes became a citizen of Wakanda, protected by diplomatic immunity. He could travel, go on missions, do aid work. He could do anything he wanted. It opened the door for Rhodes to bring both Bucky and Sam onto the Avengers team. But Steve refused to take up the shield again. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked Bucky, trying to hide the panic he felt seeing Bucky settle into his own quarters at the Avengers compound in upstate New York. 

“No,” said Bucky with an easy smile. “But it’s something to do, isn’t it?”

Steve turned away to stare out the window, his hands in his pockets. He hardly recognized headquarters anymore, with all the changes Tony kept making. Each time he’d left and come back, Tony had remodeled something else. It was constantly evolving. 

“Hey Steve?” said Bucky, but Steve didn’t turn to look at him until Bucky touched his arm and he felt he had no choice. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Steve just stared at him, because that was a flat out lie. Bucky had been leaving him in one way or the another since 1943. But he kept coming back, Steve reminded himself. That’s what mattered, wasn’t it? Steve would always be there for Bucky, and he knew Bucky felt the same way, so Steve bottled up his panic and shoved it away.

It wasn’t any easier with Sam. If Steve wasn’t Captain America anymore, then someone had to be. It was with immeasurable pride that Steve bestowed the Captain America shield onto Sam, in a formal ceremony right there in the middle of the common room, lights flashing from the press photographers. “What is it you’re always saying?” he asked Sam. 

“I do what you do, only slower,” answered Sam with a smile, reverently passing his fingers over the rim of the shield. 

But as he observed Sam in his refitted new Captain America suit and wings speak with the press, Steve felt a pressure in his chest, a kind of quiet sorrow that had nothing to do with the fact that he would never hold that shield again. Because he knew now, the knowledge inescapable, what it felt like to live in a world without Sam or Bucky by his side. It left a thin, impenetrable, vibranium-like layer of sorrow between him and everyone he held dear.

The same thought returned -- the serum couldn’t heal this. So what good was it?

*

Five years after the fall of Thanos, Wanda’s powers began to change.

She developed startling abilities, able to affect reality and probability. She could take matter apart at the cellular level. She learned to teleport across great distances. But it didn’t end there, and as her powers grew they also became erratic, harder to control. They began to destabilize. 

If Wanda touched a table, it combusted into dust. If she touched a lamp, it exploded and shattered. When she accidently touched one of the security guards trying to help, he yelled in pain as he completely disintegrated. Wanda screamed, and then couldn’t stop screaming. They put her in a specialized room to minimize damage.

“Wanda, you have to try,” begged Sam, the ground shaking beneath headquarters. 

“I am,” Wanda yelled, energy shooting out of her. She was breathing hard, her powers beginning to overwhelm her entirely. “I can’t make it stop.” 

In desperation, they called Steve in. “Why do you have her locked up?” he asked, approaching the glass wall of the cell they locked her in. Sam winced, so tired exhaustion had turned his skin gray, and Steve was immediately sorry for his tone. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Sam shook his head. “She’s the one who demanded we put her in here. It wasn’t her fault, but she accidently killed someone.”

In the room, Wanda was huddled in a corner with her back to the observation glass, her hands glowing red and bunched into fists, a haze of red energy pulsing in an uneven bubble around her. She was panting. 

He went to the access panel, punching in his code -- they never changed it. Sam and Rhodes protested but he stopped them with a look, and then entered the room. 

Wanda looked over her shoulder then made herself even smaller, pushing deeper into the corner. “Don’t come close,” she warned, her arms crossed in front of her. 

“It’s all right,” said Steve, pitching his voice low, talking slowly, but he didn’t stop until he slide down to the floor next to her, his back against the white wall. “Do your worst. You can’t hurt me.”

They sat quietly together for maybe a minute before she sighed and he held out his arms. She leaned into him, resting her head onto his shoulder. He was her surrogate brother, the one she could trust entirely, and she held on tight. He ignored the pain her hands caused, closed his eyes to the red magic that sparked around her.

“Tell me,” he said.

“It was like this, in the beginning,” she said, her hair sweat-soaked and plastered to her head. “With Strücker. But it’s not getting better this time. It’s like…” she searched for words, pulling away so she could look at Steve. “It’s like it, these powers, it reaches for him. And it can’t find him.”

Steve didn’t have to ask which ‘him’ she meant. They had tried unsuccessfully to bring Vision back, but never succeeded. 

He brushed her hair from her face. “It’s okay,” he said, when it was the farthest thing from okay. 

Her eyes glowed red, and he braced himself for what would come. Burning energy poured out of her, and he yelled through gritted teeth. But the visions were of Wanda and Pietro as children, playing in the streets of Sokovia, perhaps in those stolen moments when they were happiest. In the end, she went gently, with her brother by her side. 

Steve feared her body wouldn’t survive the devastating power, that it would consume her physically as well as mentally, but when it was over, he still held her in his arms and was able to carry her out of the room. They buried her beside her brother.

*

Publicly, Steve retired from the Avengers and worked for the Wakandan Embassy at their outreach center in Brooklyn. He traveled to other outreach centers around the world, and tried to stay out of the spotlight. Privately, he and Natasha and Clint continued much as they had in those two years after the signing of the Accords, but this time working closely with the Avengers on an ad hoc basis. Their off the books status allowed them more flexibility, more freedom. They went where they were needed, when they were needed. He still believed in what he was doing, that it was the right thing.

Their loose association with the Avengers meant they were often at headquarters. Sometimes it even seemed as if he were at the Avengers compound more than when he was Captain America. He didn’t mind. It meant fighting with Bucky at his side. It meant, this time, he was the one on Sam’s right, supporting him. There was no other place he would rather be. Although he kept reminding people not to, they still called him Cap. Sam, who was the worst offender, was the most stubborn about it. 

They also were sometimes called in to assist the CIA. It was Sharon’s doing. One thing led to another, and he and Sharon were soon dating. They had a lot in common, an ease in each other’s company that he hadn’t found with too many individuals outside of his team. He could talk to her about his life, his past, and she understood. 

Sharon had also survived the Snap, so in that way they were the same. He thought it would be enough. But she was called away on assignment for the Agency, and when she returned he had to leave for a mission that took several months. Between them they shared only pockets of time when they were physically in the same place together. They continued to try, however, on again off again, for a few years, until one day when they were both in England renting a house in the Yorkshire countryside, Sharon sat him down and gently broke it off. 

“We can’t continue like this. Neither of us wants to change,” she said, but she was careful not to look at him when she said it. He could see tears in the corner of her eyes. 

“We could, though,” he offered. “I could get out. We can live here,” he said, looking around at the little cottage that didn’t fit either of them. It was a beautiful house, pretty on a rare day of sunshine for the English countryside. He meant it, though, that they could really make a go of it, not necessarily in that particular house and location. It didn’t matter where, as long as they were together.

She smiled at him, eyebrows furrowed when she shook her head. It would never keep. He wasn’t ready to leave his life, to leave his work, and neither was she. She gave him a lingering kiss, and then left him alone in the kitchen of the cottage. 

A few years later he heard she married a fellow agent, Cameron Klein, someone she had known for years going back to her SHIELD days. They had three children, two boys and a little girl she named Margaret. At Natasha’s urging, Steve reached out to Sharon, and they became good friends, better friends even than when they were dating. He was Uncle Steve to her kids, especially little Margaret. It was always bittersweet between them, but he cared for her and made sure she knew it. 

He was deep into a mission tracking a Children of Thanos cult terrorist cell operating out of the north coast of Africa when he got word that Sharon Carter was killed in action apprehending an enhanced target fleeing from a sting operation. He had only a moment to absorb the news before he had to get his head in the game, shoving the sharp pain down, ignoring the knowledge that he had let her down.

*

Sometimes Steve thought he heard the rush, the orchestral chords, of the Bifrost, but when he went outside and looked up at the sky there was nothing. Then he spent most of the day expecting Thor to walk into the room, or come around a corner, bigger than life, beaming that absurdly golden smile.

He had strange dreams where he felt like he was standing beside Thor except Thor wasn’t there. In these dreams, he saw magnificent otherworldly landscapes, mountain ranges that couldn’t be found on Earth, an ocean of such a dark blue it was almost purple, the edges tinged with amber. Then he woke and had to go about his day like normal, absentminded to the point that Natasha teased him and Clint gave him weird looks. In the back of his mind, he felt a kind of distant rumbling laughter, a presence like he wasn’t entirely alone in his body. 

During thunderstorms, he walked in the rain, holding out his hand to feel the raindrops, the tickle of static. A gentle question asked, a sighing answer given.

*

It took years but eventually Steve and Tony healed their friendship. They couldn’t return to how things were in those early years, the pre-Ultron days -- too much had passed between them, but time had a funny way of putting things in perspective.

Several times a year, Steve flew out to California to visit. Since the Fall of Thanos, although Iron Man would occasionally make a spectacular appearance, Tony hid from media attention. The break up with Pepper hit him hard. 

“She’ll come around,” said Steve, trying to reassure Tony. 

Tony shook his head. “It’s not that. I can’t keep doing this to her. She deserves better. And with this,” he said, pointing to his side, to the wound he got from Thanos that could never quite heal. Tony kept the injury stable with nano-technology, but Steve could see it was draining the life out of him. 

“It’s her choice, if she chooses to be with you anyway,” said Steve. “You should let her back in, Tony. You shouldn’t be alone here.” 

The rebuilt Malibu home was beautiful but isolated, with Tony spending most of his time tinkering in the basement. His only other visitors were Rhodes and Peter Parker, and he’d been told that Dr. Strange was also known to appear suddenly. But Rhodes passed away ten years after the Fall of Thanos, and after that Tony retreated even further. There was a new War Machine residing at headquarters. 

Some topics they never discussed. If they spoke about the Avengers, they avoided talking about Bucky and his work on the team. It was sometimes difficult. Bucky was in the news a lot; it took careful editing on Steve’s part, and special arrangements for any visit Tony made to headquarters. Tony may have forgiven much of what happened, maybe even understood that it hadn’t been Bucky’s fault, but Bucky would always be the assassin who killed his mother, and it was unfair to expect more from him than what he was willing to give.

Tony never talked about his parents anymore with Steve, never brought up Howard Stark. Steve hoped Tony realized the version of Captain America Tony grew up with, the one Howard fixated on, was a work of fiction. That Captain America hadn’t been real.

Eventually, another wore the Iron Man suit. A young woman from MIT took up the mantle and joined the Avengers, Tony making one of his rare public appearances at the press conference. It wasn’t until that moment, with Steve on stage beside Tony, that Steve realized Tony had gotten old. 

“Hey, come with me,” said Tony, when the fuss had died down and they were left alone. “I’ve got something to show you.” Tony took him down to the archives, and they went a winding route through several hallways before they came to a room at the end of a corridor. 

It was a moderately sized room, the walls filled with shelving units stacked with labeled boxes, several articles of Captain America memorabilia from the 1940s placed on a table in the center of the room. 

“What is this?” asked Steve, picking up a toy set featuring Captain America and the Howling Commandos and then setting it down before noticing several framed comic book covers. They were the old ones, written and printed during the tour, even before he’d gone overseas. 

“Most of Dad’s collection,” said Tony, and Steve froze because Tony hadn’t mentioned Howard in decades. “I know you’re probably not really interested in any of this stuff. You can do what you want with it. Donate it. Trash it. It’s yours. But over here,” he pointed to a series of boxes tucked in a corner. “Those are his old SSR files that he kept. Off the record. And next to that, in those boxes, are his files from the time he worked with Margaret Carter. Before they founded SHIELD. I’m sorry I didn’t give them to you sooner. Didn’t even know this stuff existed until we moved headquarters here.”

Steve marveled at how much stuff Howard had collected. He didn’t particularly want to go through the SSR files. “Why now?”

“Well,” said Tony with a quick hand gesture. Then he winced, and placed a hand over his side. Steve went to him, leading Tony by his arm over to one of the chairs. Suddenly, Steve realized what Tony was doing, why they were in a forgotten room in the basement of the compound with Tony giving away his things. 

“Tony,” he said, and his eyes stung, his throat hurt. 

Tony gave him a twisted half-smile. “Ah Cap. The last few grains are clinging to the side of the glass. My time’s running out.”

Steve swallowed. Tony’s dark eyes were watching him, taking him in. “Can’t anything be done?”

“Everything’s been done that can be done,” said Tony. “I fought this for a long time, buddy. Let’s be honest. I probably should have died on Titan. I’m here on borrowed time. In some ways, I had a dry run at this dying business years ago. But look at you.” Steve shook his head, holding Tony’s hand, their fingers twisted together. “It used to drive me nuts, the way you looked, the perfection of you. You haven’t aged a day. I wasn’t jealous,” said Tony quickly and Steve snorted wetly. “But it gives me comfort now. To see you looking like you do. Knowing my dad did a good job. You’re this… god.”

“You’ve got me confused with Thor,” said Steve, letting the tears fall. 

“Nah,” said Tony, with a smile. He patted Steve’s hand. “I’ve got one bone to pick with you, however. And honestly, I can’t believe I’ve held on to this for as long as I have. It’s been eating at me this entire time.”

“What?” asked Steve. 

“A flip phone? You send me a flip phone, really? Did I teach you nothing?” 

Steve barked a soggy laugh. They sat together for a minute, maybe two, until Tony began to rise. “I should get back,” said Tony. “Pepper’s waiting.”

Steve took in a breath with a sense of relief mixed with too much sorrow, knowing Tony wasn’t alone, that he still had Pepper. “Why don’t I fly back with you,” he said. 

“That’s all right, Cap. I’ll be okay,” he said, pausing. “And so will you.”

Outside, on the dock next to Tony’s plane, they hugged and Steve held on for a moment longer. Two months later the world learned of the passing of Tony Stark. It was breaking news, the kind that left everyone reeling. They asked Steve to make the official Avengers announcement as one of the leaders of the original Avengers.

He gave his statement outside, on the steps of Avengers Headquarters. As he spoke, it began to rain. 

“He was Earth’s best defender. Tony Stark was a hero, a friend, and an Avenger. To say he will be missed…” He trailed off, unable to finish, the rain continuing to fall. “Thank you,” he said, and walked away from the podium.

*

Months after the fact, Steve wondered if Natasha had known in some way, if she’d had some kind of premonition. He examined her actions, went over everything she’d said to him, tried to recall how she’d looked every moment they were together, tried to remember her facial expressions. He would never know for sure. And what if she had known before hand? Would that make it better or worse? Did it make a difference?

It was a months-long stakeout, watching a suspected cult leader’s movements. They didn’t even know if they had the right person. The Children of Thanos cult had proven to be elusive, adaptive, and persistent. They gave Hydra a run for their money, although Steve wasn’t certain the Children of Thanos cult wasn’t just another incarnation of Hydra, using the convenience of the world’s trauma to further their cause. 

“Why here? Why Mexico?” he asked. They walked arm-in-arm strolling down the picturesque street along the canal front. The Xochimilco barrio had floating gardens in canals leading to flower-laden streets, away from the noisier bustle of Mexico City. The canals gave off a musty odor, mixed with car exhaust and blooming flowers. 

In a sundress, Natasha stopped to buy several bouquets, placing them in a wicker basket she carried, her fringed shawl trailing, revealing the freckles on her shoulders. “Why not?” she countered, swinging her basket in one hand while taking his hand with the other. “No regulation. Large tracks of land, hidden from drones. Everyone looks the other way, no questions asked. What’s not to love? The weather’s great.”

The Mexican government had actually bent over backwards to assist them, however much they could, but the decades-long practice of outsiders building compounds in central Mexico meant the Children of Thanos already had a foothold. 

Waiting didn’t sit well with Steve, and Natasha knew it. She smiled, and patted his cheek. “Come on. I want to hit the _tiendas_ before they close.”

With a sigh and an answering smile he willingly followed. It had been weeks already, establishing their covers, and would likely be weeks more. They lived in a three-story building down one of the quieter narrow streets. It gave them a good view of their target’s apartment, directly onto his rooftop. They owned the whole building, but they mainly resided on the third floor. 

The locals called them “el joven y la señora.” Natasha had something of a reputation -- the older woman corrupting her much younger boyfriend. It made Steve turn red whenever the ladies behind the _tiendas_ cackled like a bunch of hens. 

Natasha loved it, playing her part. “I’m just using you for your body.” She made him carry her groceries. 

“Hilarious,” he said, herding her up the stairs to their rooms. “You just keep getting funnier.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this domestic. Maybe for a short time with Sharon. Maybe in the 1940s, over a hundred years ago with Bucky. He cooked and Natasha cleaned. They ate on their rooftop balcony garden, behind a blind and away from prying eyes yet still decorated with fairy lights. Together they celebrated her fifty-seventh’s birthday, just the two of them. He baked a cake. Sometimes they sat and read quietly together. Sometimes he sketched and painted while she stretched, limbering up before doing simple ballet exercises. They took turns watching their target, communicating with Clint who was stationed with the other Avengers tracking the compound location. They compared notes, researched potential targets. 

Sometimes he watched her, the dying daylight filtering in through their open windows. They kept out of reach of any sniper fire while she laid out each of her weapons, guns and knives and stun batons, and systematically cleaned each. 

“What are you looking at?” she asked him with her secret smile, flicking her eyes up at him while she took apart her favorite handgun. In her late fifties, she seemed incandescently beautiful to him. She’d lost some of the softness she’d had when younger, trading it in for a spare beauty. 

He shrugged. “I just like watching you,” he said. 

She turned slightly coquettish, her secret smile lingering. They had been together, one way or another, for close to thirty years. They had no secrets between them. He knew her inside and out. And yet, she still intrigued him, would always be a mystery, and he never tired of watching her. 

At night, they lay together. Unable to sleep, he watched the moonlight paint her skin, and leaned in to breathe in the scent of her hair, caressing the loose strands. She’d returned to her customary red not long after the Fall of Thanos, and in the moonlight it darkened to rusty black. She turned to face him, pressing close, and he tried to memorize the weight of her in his arms. 

The next week, Clint joined them in their little apartment. The ladies of the _tiendas_ did not know what to make of this new addition. Were _la señora_ and the gray-haired gentleman married? Was _el joven_ their boy toy? It was like their own telenovela. Natasha loved it and teased both of them mercilessly. Steve worried they were bringing too much attention. Clint, as unflappable as ever, pretended like he hadn’t noticed it. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he planted a kiss on Steve’s mouth in front of the entire marketplace, winking at Natasha who was frankly beaming. It made Steve turn purple and set the hens all cackling. 

“Come on, lover,” said Clint, making an impatient gesture with his hand. “Can’t keep the missus waiting.”

Long-suffering, Steve sighed and followed his infuriating team back to their home, leaving the ladies of the _tiendas_ to wonder what would happen next in this torrid love affair. 

But the stakeout was a bust, their target either a totally innocent mild-mannered ex-pat bachelor or so deep into his performance they couldn’t uncover it. Steve got word that T’Challa’s health had taken a turn for the worse, and he needed to return to Wakanda. Natasha and Clint rendezvoused with Bucky and Sam, and they joined the other Avengers to continue the search for the Children of Thanos compound. 

Before they parted, Natasha kissed Steve on his cheek, an echo of their goodbye from decades before. “What was that for?” he asked. 

“No reason,” she said. “I just like looking at you.”

T’Challa’s health scare proved to be just a scare, and he was up and about with a new Wakandan version of a pacemaker installed in his chest, as good as a new heart. His son was the Black Panther now, but T’Challa still ruled the Kingdom of Wakanda with the same quiet strength he’d shown at the start of his reign. 

Steve stood by the windows in his suite at the palace, gazing out at the lovely countryside. There were no leftover scars to mark where the Battle of Wakanda had taken place, and he thought, if only everyone else’s scars could be healed as easily. He turned when he heard a knock on his door, and T’Challa entered. 

Someone somewhere had decided it should be T’Challa, to break the news to Steve. He knew, with just one look at T’Challa’s face, what he had come to say, and he put his hand against the glass of the window for support. He felt the heat of the day’s sun radiating through the glass as T’Challa told him about the raid on the compound in Mexico, the heavy fire the Avengers took, the number of hostages the Children of Thanos had taken. 

“There were only two casualties, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. Through their actions, they saved the lives of the hostages, and the lives of their team members. I am so sorry, my friend,” said T’Challa. 

T’Challa stayed with Steve until it was time for Steve to board a jet and fly back to headquarters. On the flight back, Steve read and reread and read again Bucky’s report of the raid, trying to understand what had happened. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The Avengers did what they were trained to do, and they were trained to save lives. He took a small comfort in the fact that they died together. 

He thought of Laura Barton, and Clint’s kids who were all adults now, the youngest Nathanial set to get married in a couple of months. Clint and Laura had reconciled in recent years. He had planned on retiring, wanting to be home and become a grumpy grandfather to Cooper and Lila’s children. Steve would need to visit Laura. He’d seen Clint’s kids grow from children to adults to having children of their own. It was the least he could do. 

Over and over again during the flight, he thought he should have been there. _I should have been there._ But, he hadn’t been. 

He couldn’t think of Natasha. Instead, his brain simply whited-out, and he returned to their weeks living in their rooftop apartment. He wasn’t ready, and had no idea when he ever would be ready. She didn’t leave a family behind, except for him. He was her family. Sam was her family, and Bucky, and other Avengers. 

At headquarters, he found Sam looking haggard, stationed outside of Bucky’s office.

“He’s barricaded himself in there,” said Sam, his face drawn with grief.

“Stand back,” said Steve, and kicked hard. The door went off its hinge, and then he kicked again to knock over whatever Bucky had placed in front of it.

Bucky lifted his head when Steve entered. His eyes were red, barely holding back tears. When he saw Steve, he raised his arms over his head as if something was going to crash down on him, as if he expected Steve to kick him as hard as he’d kicked the door. Bucky met his gaze again, his face even redder, holding his breath too long. 

Steve knelt beside him, and Bucky started crying in earnest. Steve buried his head into the crook of Bucky’s neck and they held each other, Bucky’s metal arm crushing him close.

“It was my fault, Steve,” said Bucky. 

Steve tried to suck in air. He pushed away so he could look into Bucky’s face. “You know that’s not true,” he said. “If it’s your fault, it’s mine, too. I should have been there.”

But fault didn’t matter. It never did. Bucky and Natasha had gotten close over the years. Two ex-Russian assassins, they shared something indefinable between them, something no one else could understand or penetrate. It hadn’t been an entirely comfortable friendship, but a deep one nevertheless. Steve suspected they’d also become lovers, but neither ever told him about it. They were like that, his two Russian assassins, so secretive yet so loving. And Bucky had been in command of the operation. No matter how often it happened, losing someone under your command, it never got easier. 

“She chose to be an Avenger. She knew what that meant. Hey, look at me. She and Clint both went out on their own terms, saving lives. You can’t ask for more than that.”

Bucky’s eyes searched Steve’s face, listening extra hard. After a moment, he nodded, and lowered his head to rest it against Steve’s chest. 

At the funeral, it thundered and then rained. Steve stepped out from under his umbrella, and turned his face up the gray skies.

*

Sam had a good run as Captain America. He was very popular, and probably the best out of the three of them when it came to the media and public relations. He weathered the changing landscape following the Fall of Thanos, the inquiry and subsequent trial into Secretary Ross’s actions, and was instrumental in de-ratifying the Accords and putting in place new regulations. He worked well with Captain Marvel as co-leader of the Avengers. Their team started off with Bucky, call sign The White Wolf, Spider-man, War Machine, and Scarlet Witch until she couldn’t anymore. Later, Scott Lang joined the team, and they made a great pair together.

When he got into his fifties, he thought it was time to hang up his wings, and he convinced Bucky to take up the shield. Steve had never been prouder, presenting the world to the new Captain America. At the press conference, they stood in front of a small army of reporters, the three of them together with Bucky in his new uniform in the center, holding up the shield. 

“You know, I’m still not convinced he’s the kind you save,” said Sam, speaking to Steve so only he could hear.

Steve smiled. Bucky held still for pictures, not exactly smiling but looking very official. “Yeah. You’re right. I guess he’s managing his own saving.”

“Well,” said Sam, his eyes soft as he watched Bucky ignore the rest of the reporters when he spotted a gaggle of kids too timid and fearful of the new Captain America to come close. Bucky practically went onto his back, like a dog wanting to appear non-threatening, until the kids grew brave enough to approach. Soon the children were laughing, asking Bucky question after question in their high lilting voices. “The shield’s in good hands I think. That’s what’s important.”

Although retired, Sam kept his hand in the game for years, working with Bucky mostly, but also with Steve and Natasha and Clint off the books, and then later with just Steve. He didn’t fly anymore, and Steve knew that weighed on him a lot. Sam missed his wings more than he missed the shield. 

Eventually Sam bought a house on the top of a big hill not far from headquarters. The back porch had a view of the valley and gave the illusion of height, of being up in the clouds. 

Steve, who had become something of a nomad by then, roaming from headquarters to Wakanda to his apartment in Brooklyn to wherever a mission called for, never calling any one place home for very long, settled with Sam in his little house, living there as much as he lived anywhere. 

Over the years, he came sauntering up the lane, home from a mission, finding Sam in his back yard wearing a floppy sun hat, elbow-deep in his garden fretting over his begonias or his tomatoes, or over his overgrown zucchini patch. Steve got down on his knees beside Sam to pull weeds. Then, they went inside, shared a meal together. In the morning Steve cooked breakfast and they ate on the porch, with the morning fog creeping across the valley. 

When Sam began to need daily assistance, Steve moved in full time into the spare bedroom. 

“You don’t have to. I get plenty of help,” said Sam.

“I know. But you’re not getting rid of me yet,” he said. 

It was true though, Sam had plenty of visitors. There was a constant parade of family and friends: each of the Avengers came to visit regularly almost every day. Bucky in particular missed Sam a great deal and would show up unannounced. Sam got visits from his grandnieces and nephews, from the grandchildren of veterans Sam knew back in the day, Sharon’s daughter Margaret, and Clint’s kids and their kids plus their friends, all those who had grown up with Sam as their Captain America. 

But, when the visitors left, and it was just Steve and Sam alone, the tension that had crept into Sam’s shoulders left with them. Alone, Sam didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to put on a show anymore. 

Like the days that shortened as summer gave way to fall, Sam began slipping quietly away. On a lucid evening, with a fire burning in the fireplace, Sam teased him, his snowy hair catching red glints from the fire. “Why you looking so glum?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” said Steve, blinking past the sting of tears. 

Sam looked on one side of where he sat and then looked to his other side, finding a napkin left over from dinner. He balled it up and threw it at Steve’s head. “Am I going to have to get up from this chair and go over there and beat your ass if I see you crying? Nothing to cry about. I’ve had my life. It’s been a good life.”

Steve laughed, but he also shook his head. “I’m selfish, Sam. What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Oh man,” said Sam. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Come over here, baby.” And instantly Steve went to him. Sam was still a big man, his body holding remnants of his past strength, and he had good reach, wrapping Steve up in his arms. “Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for that morning. Six a.m. and I have to deal with your punk ass lapping me on the National Mall. You changed my life, Steve, and I’m grateful for it.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you,” said Steve.

“I’m gonna let you keep thinking that, even though I know it’s not true. I guess, in this one thing, I’m a little faster than you are. You were meant for more than the mundane, Steve. You better accept that.”

In the morning, Steve prepared breakfast and then helped Sam out onto the porch, just like they did every morning. He got Sam settled into his chair, tucking a blanket around him. 

“Wow, would you look at that,” said Sam, staring at the view. The sunrise shed a pinkish golden light across the morning fog, breaking up the clouds so the valley glistened with dew. It reminded Steve of that distant planet, the one he tried not to think about. There were birds flying in and out of the sunrays, the sun cresting over the hills. “Ain’t that a sight?”

“Special ordered golden sunrise, just for you,” said Steve. “Are you good? I’ll be right back in a jiffy.”

“Yeah, I’m good, man. I’ll be here.”

When he returned, carrying a tray with both their breakfasts, he knew instantly that Sam was gone. He dropped the tray. It crashed to the ground, but Steve didn’t notice, having fallen to his knees saying Sam’s name over and over again, taking his still warm hands in his. Steve never spoke of that moment to anyone, never described it, never talked about how Sam’s eyes were still watching the clouds and the sky and the flying birds. He never said that he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Sam had seen that sunrise and couldn’t let it pass, so he got up from his chair and took flight. 

Later, when he had a little perspective, Steve realized that final summer with Sam was one of the greatest gifts of his life. 

He sat with Sam on the porch for a long time, until the sun had fully risen and crossed over to the other side, before he was ready to let go and carried Sam into the house.

*

Everyone but Steve seemed surprised how well Bucky did as Captain America. He wasn’t surprised at all. With Bucky Barnes, the world got the Winter Soldier, The White Wolf, and Captain America all rolled into one. He definitely had his detractors; those who thought the Winter Soldier did not deserve anything less than imprisonment. But, in a post-Snap world, more and more were saying, “Maybe he’s the superhero we need right now.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” said Barton, in those middling years after Sam retired but when he still went out in his wings for missions, still wore the star on his chest. “Just look at the three of you. You’re giving everyone apoplexy.”

The three Captain Americas, working together, Sam and Steve supporting Bucky, taking down terrorists and secret cults and enhanced opportunists, fighting the occasional robot army that seemed almost perennial. They were a sight to behold.

When Sam passed, Steve knew an era had ended. 

After the funeral, he sent everyone home, and started the work of packing up Sam’s house. He wanted to do it alone, but on the morning after the funeral, he found he couldn’t get started, and instead sat on the back porch, staring at the sunrise. He lost track of time watching the little dramas of daybreak, until he sensed a presence beside him. 

Bucky sat close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Should we get started?” he asked when the light changed. 

“I guess so,” said Steve. They got up and entered the house, and started putting boxes together. “Thanks.”

Not bothering to answer, Bucky squeezed his shoulder, patted him on the back. They worked together, not speaking much beyond Bucky asking where the tape was and Steve offering him a beer. They worked into the evening and then took a break for dinner, choosing to eat outside on the porch. 

“I’m going to retire from the Avengers,” said Bucky, breaking the long silence. 

“What?” asked Steve, startled. 

Bucky shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I think it’s time. Before…” he trailed off, eyes vacant, staring into the evening darkness, the crickets chorusing loudly in the underbush. “Before I overstay my welcome. You know, go out while people still like me.”

It was an odd thing to say. Out of the three of them, Bucky had carried the shield the longest. Steve as pretty sure Bucky could be Captain America indefinitely, if he wanted. 

“If that’s what you want,” said Steve, neutrally. 

Bucky started laughing, an almost wheezy laugh. “Steve, you punk. I’ve known you my whole life. You think you can play dumb with me? I know you don’t want to stick around anymore. Not now. Maybe not ever, but you did for me, and I’m grateful. So, now it’s my turn. I go where you go.”

Steve felt a warm glow spread, chasing away the sorrow. He suspected Bucky wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but he didn’t press. He smiled, and nodded. “All right.”

“Besides,” added Bucky. “I promised Sam.”

Steve didn’t expect the wave of emotion that crashed over him, blinding his vision. Bucky gently took his dinner plate from his hands, and then gathered him into his arms. “Big sap,” he said, fondly, but he was crying too. 

They returned to Wakanda. T’Challa had passed only a few short months before Sam, and Steve knew the young king, T’Challa’s eldest, could use the support. But truthfully, Wakanda had always been a place of sanctuary. 

In Wakanda they could avoid the brunt of the media fervor over Bucky’s retirement, the non-stop news coverage filled with reporters analyzing Bucky’s actions over the past year, runaway theories that Bucky’s health was failing. A few were critical of the decision, stating that Bucky was abandoning the nation. Some were relieved. Most were grateful for his years of service. 

Bucky never responded to any of it. Steve was also willing to ignore it. The hardest to bear was the quiet resentment from his fellow Avengers, but they came around, following Carol Danvers’ lead. There was a respect that passed between Carol and Bucky, having worked together for so many years. 

Steve and Bucky lived first with the Border Tribe, learning both animal husbandry and the defense of Wakanda. Then, they lived with the River Tribe, exploring the waterways. They lived in turn with the Merchant Tribe and the Mining tribe. 

It was nothing like the life Steve thought he would have, nothing matching the dreams he had growing up in Brooklyn. But, unconventional though it was, it was a good life. Sometimes he dared to believe that he and Bucky could continue like this, living in such a beautiful country, learning something new every day. He should have known better.

They went into the mountains, to the land of the Jabari, the Mountain Tribe. As they hiked up the mountain path, Steve stopped and then Bucky turned just as a swarm of warriors surrounded them. They held their breath until M’Baku pushed through the crowd to the front, and started laughing. He was an old man by then but undiminished in height and strength, and his laugh rang deep, echoing across the mountains. “So you have come at last,” he said. “What took you so long? I have been watching you bounce around all of Wakanda.” Then he laughed again, and hugged both Steve and Bucky hard enough to crack their backs. 

Steve thought he knew what strength was, but the Jabari showed him a whole new meaning of the word. Strength to the Jabari meant the power of the land, of the mountain, of Hanuman. They stayed with the Jabari the longest. Steve thought he could easily live there forever.

“If I stare at you too long,” teased M’Baku. “You blend in with snow.”

“I guess that’s my one advantage,” answered Steve, and they both laughed. He sat beside M’Baku in the Jabari ceremonial hall, watching the customary ritual combat to celebrate Hanuman. Bucky stood waiting in the center for his opponent, holding his mask. “Thank you, for letting Bucky and me stay here.”

M’Baku waved a hand. “For the sacrifices you endured, for Wakanda, you and the White Wolf are welcome with the Jabari. Although,” he added, calling loudly to Bucky waiting in the arena. “I might change my mind if you continue to bore me like this. What are you waiting for?” 

“Ha ha,” said Bucky, saluting M’Baku with his right hand. He had removed his arm for the fight, in tradition with the customs of the Jabari that shunned most technology. His opponent entered the arena, sliding on his mask, waiting only long enough for Bucky to put on his wolf mask, and the fight began. They fought with short staffs, the sharp crack of wood ringing through the hall. This was the third time Bucky fought that day for the ceremony, and Steve wondered if he was beginning to tire. 

The opponent struck Bucky hard, coming down with his full strength. Bucky raised his staff to block, but it cracked. A shard of wood snapped off, flying through the air. It would have ripped through the audience where the children gathered to watch. Bucky leapt and caught the shard in his only hand. It sliced through flesh and bone and he yelled, crashing to the ground.

Steve was the first one by Bucky’s side. The Jabari healers applied painkillers, and removed the shard, piece by piece. 

“You’re going to be okay,” said Steve. It was a bad wound, but they’d both survived worse with no scars to show for it. 

Clammy and pale, Bucky closed his eyes.

“Steve,” said M’Baku, gaining his attention, his dark eyes serious. It was strange to hear M’Baku say his name like that, without teasing. “We will arrange transport for you and The White Wolf to go to the city. He will need their technology. Go at once to Shuri.”

“He’s going to be fine,” said Steve, but then paused as he took at the concern in M’Baku’s and the healer’s face. “Yeah, it looks bad, but he’s had worse. Believe me.”

“Steve,” said Bucky, and Steve looked down at him. He saw then what he had been studiously avoiding for months, maybe for years. It wasn’t that Bucky was aging, but that the thrum of the serum within him, the same thrum that was within Steve, was slowly fading. There had been other signs -- scars on Bucky’s body from other minor wounds that Steve overlooked, a grayer cast to his skin, his hair no longer as brown as before. 

“Okay,” said Steve. “I understand. Let’s go, let’s go to the city.”

An hour later, he was walking briskly beside the floating gurney as they guided Bucky into Shuri’s hands. “I thought I had seen the last of you,” she quipped. “Come now, Sergeant Barnes. Why are you undoing my work?”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling at her. It took only another hour before Shuri had Bucky’s hand fully healed and as good as new, but by then it was evening, and the sky filled with stars. 

A guard escorted Steve and Bucky back to the same set of rooms they’d shared ever since he had first showed up in Wakanda, carrying a wounded Bucky. “You may return to the Jabari in the morning, if you wish,” said the guard. “But the King would like to share breakfast with you, if you are willing.”

“Of course,” answered Steve. “We’ll see him in the morning.”

The guard nodded, and then left, plunging Steve and Bucky into an icy silence. Bucky wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked, but immediately regretted his tone. 

Bucky sighed. “Tell you what, Steve? What was I supposed to say?”

Steve shook his head. He went to stand by the window but the lights in the room cast too much reflection. He couldn’t see the rolling fields, or the distant mountains. “Tell me now. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Bucky, and he shrugged. “Started several years ago. Probably from the beginning, just too slow to notice. I still heal, just slowly, more like everyone else. I’m still strong, but I get tired. It’s not like I have a clue, about any of it. What was done to me, all those years ago? What was done to you? I don’t know, Steve.”

“Is this the reason you retired?”

Bucky’s smile had an edge to it, and his laugh was short. “Do you believe that?”

Shame flooded over Steve, and he deflated. He sat down on the low couch, and put his head in his hands. “God, I’m sorry,” he said. “Of course I don’t.”

“S’okay,” said Bucky. “I know you didn’t mean it.” They fell into silence again, until Bucky sat on the couch with him. “I’d be lying if it hadn’t been a factor. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” said Steve, but he said it as softly as he could. “Maybe something can be done? Have you spoken to Shuri? We’re in Wakanda. If there’s anything that can be done, I’m sure she can figure it out.”

“I…” started Bucky, and then stopped as he studied Steve. Then he nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll talk to her, first thing. Okay? Am I forgiven now?”

Steve felt a rush of relief. He’d never encountered anything in this world that Shuri couldn’t make better. “Hm. Not sure. Probably.”

In answer, Bucky threw a pillow at him.

It soon proved it wouldn’t be an easy fix. They took blood samples from him, for comparison, and then Bucky and Shuri went behind closed doors. Not wanting to put too much pressure on Bucky, knowing he had a tendency to hover, he left Bucky in Shuri’s capable hands and embarked on a three-month tour of the Wakandan Outreach Centers with the king. It was strange, stepping back out into the world, once again being photographed and questioned, having to do interviews and press conferences, but the attention was mostly on the king while Steve concentrated on his work with the Centers. It was somewhere mid-flight between Detroit and San Francisco when his kimoyo beads chirped. 

“Princess Shuri,” he said, when Shuri’s image appeared like she was standing right in front of him. “I hope you’re well.”

“As well as can be expected,” she said, and he knew he wasn’t going to like this conversation at all. “Bucky asked me to speak with you.”

“Okay,” he said, wary.

“I have developed a treatment for him. It should work,” she said. 

“But…” he added. He knew there was a ‘but.’

“But, it would necessitate Bucky going through the serum injection again. I would create a new serum, from your blood. I can do it. But Bucky has declined. He says he does not want it, and he hopes you understand. He’s returned to the Jabari. You can find him there, when you return.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but then remained silent. 

Steve stared at her for probably an uncomfortably long minute, but he eventually cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Shuri pinched her lips together, then nodded. “Can you… The samples you took, my blood,” he started. 

“Already destroyed,” she answered. 

They ended the call. The king gave quiet orders that Steve should not be disturbed, and the flight continued. It was good, thought Steve, that he had a month longer for the tour, traveling with the Wakandan entourage, before returning. It gave him time to think, and to process, to make plans. 

When he returned, he didn’t linger long in the city but headed straight for the mountains. Wakanda didn’t have a dramatic change from season to season, so close to the equator, but he swore the hike up to the Jabari had gotten colder and windier since he had last made the same hike. 

He found Bucky ensconced in the Jabari nursery with the children, playing some kind of complicated game of tag. Of course. Whenever Steve went looking for Bucky, he always found him surrounded by children.

“Keeping busy, I see,” he said. 

The children all gasped in surprise, and Bucky turned to look at him. “Steve,” he said, with a beatific smile. How was Steve supposed to be mad at him when he smiled like that? Bucky looked the picture of good health though, beaming at him. He had removed his arm, and without it he looked less pinched, less weighed too much to one side. “You’re back. Go get him, kids.”

The children rushed at Steve, and he went down as they piled on top of him, jabbering so quickly that he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Steve set his bag down, and settled in to play until it was time for the children’s dinner. 

Left alone, their silence said volumes. Bucky stood up and started putting order to the nursery. Steve was the first to speak. “Walk with me?”

“All right,” said Bucky. 

They wrapped themselves up in cloaks and furs and went out onto the mountainside. The sun was just starting to set, casting a golden glow over the snow. Steve didn’t have a destination, and so they walked aimlessly until he found a ledge where they could sit. 

“I don’t blame you,” said Steve. “For not going through with the treatment. If our positions were reversed, I’d have passed on it, too.”

“Yeah,” said Bucky. “And I’m sure I would have been pissed as hell at you for it.” Steve snorted. “So what now?”

Steve sighed. “Did Shuri give you any kind of time frame? What to expect?” Steve hadn’t wanted to ask Shuri before, but he decided it was best to know as much as he could beforehand. 

Bucky shrugged. “Years probably. Could be a lot of years. It’s not exact.”

There were words Bucky wasn’t saying, describing what it would feel like for him, and whether there would be other side effects. This wasn’t normal aging. The sky had darkened while they were speaking but most of the stars weren’t out yet except for one twinkling low on the horizon. Steve wondered if it were a planet. He knew from experience that, in Wakanda, all he had to do was wait another minute and the night sky would suddenly become jeweled.

“Do you like it here, Bucky?”

“Yeah, of course, I love it here. What’s not to love?”

Steve would look back at this moment and wonder what might have happened if he’d chosen differently. Was it his fault? Should they have stayed in Wakanda? But if they had, would that have been better? He would never know. 

“The Brooklyn Outreach Center needs a new director. They’ve been searching for months, but there haven’t been any strong candidates. The king suggested you might be interested. I said I’d ask. Job’s yours if you want it.”

Bucky was silent for a long time, almost as if he’d frozen into the mountainside, and then a slow smile spread across his lips. “Brooklyn, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “Who’d a thunk it, right?”

“Maybe it’s time for Brooklyn again,” said Bucky, conversationally. “You know, traffic, pollution, street violence, smelly docks. Would you be up for that?”

Steve pursed his lips, and gave Bucky a half smile and a shrug. “I go where you go.” 

Less than a month later, they moved back into Steve’s almost completely abandoned Brooklyn apartment, and Bucky started his new job as director for the Wakandan Outreach Center. Bucky threw himself entirely into the job. Steve had never seen him so energized and enthusiastic. Not even when Bucky had first joined the Avengers, not even when they were kids and it was first day of summer. He was excited very day to go to work, full of ideas for new programs and different ways to do outreach, creating partnerships with local and national businesses, always searching for new ways to help those who were most vulnerable.

Although in Wakanda he would typically go about without his left arm, in Brooklyn Bucky only took it off at home. When asked, he shrugged. “It’s just better, having two hands. I can help out more.”

Six months into their return, Steve got a call from Avengers Headquarters. They had a new Captain America, none other than Margaret Klein, Sharon’s daughter. She asked if he would come up for the press conference, to present the shield, and then afterward, if he might stay and do some training. 

Steve packed a bag. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” asked Bucky, helping gather some of Steve’s toiletries. 

“No longer than a couple of weeks, I should think,” he said, taking the supplies from Bucky and stuffing them into his bag. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in plenty of time for the softball game, I promise.”

“All right,” said Bucky, suspicious. “Just don’t go haring off on some mission. I have half a mind to go with you, but then they’d get their greedy hands on both of us.”

Steve laughed. “Come on. It’s Margaret. I can’t say no. She still calls me Uncle Steve.”

“Of course you have to go. Just come back.” 

“Don’t be dumb.”

It was strange to be back at headquarters, with its sleek modern angles, its floor-to-ceiling windows and beautifully manicured lawns. It made him miss the beautiful Wakandan landscape, but he’d be lying if it didn’t also feel good, like he was back on a team again. The press conference went smoothly. This was the third time he’d presented the shield to someone he cared about, and each time he was awed by the entire process. 

He settled into the rhythm of headquarters, with early morning training sessions and mission briefings. Margaret was a strong, confident fighter and leader, hardly needing any training from him. She reminded him so strongly of Peggy sometimes, much more than Sharon had, that he occasionally had to go away for a bit. At night, he called Bucky, checking in to see how thing were going, listening to Bucky’s enthusiastic description of the kids he worked with. “This one kid, Steve. He’s incredible. His name is Miles.”

It was later in their morning training session on the start of his second week when the klaxon alarm started, and the lights flashed. Steve felt the immediate surge of adrenaline, instantly on alert. He and Margaret and the others rushed to the situation room. 

Margaret took charge, pulling up the first reports. “It’s some kind of attack… oh, no.” She turned to Steve. “It’s the Wakandan Outreach center, in Brooklyn. A hostage situation, Children of Thanos copy cats.”

The Children of Thanos cult had all but disappeared in recent years, since the raid on their compound in Mexico. But zealots still lingered, festering in the quiet, dark places of the world. 

Cold dread flooded Steve. He took out his cell phone and called Bucky. No answer. He called again as he followed Margaret and others to the quinjet. Called repeatedly through the short flight, while he tried to take in intel. There were reports of gunfire, of a small explosion, of some kind of energy weapon that blasted holes in the walls. He called again and again, but there was no answer. 

Just as the jet swiveled before landing, they got one more report: the hostages were safe, the hostiles either killed or taken into custody. There was only one casualty. 

Steve’s blood turned to ice. All he could hear was a sharp, high sound of feedback, a piercing whine as he moved with speed, exiting the jet. Margaret was calling his name, but he couldn’t hear her, charging until he saw one of the first responders, decked out in riot gear. 

“Take me to him,” he said, although he couldn’t hear his own voice.

The man took one look at Steve, and then shifted his gaze to Margaret beside him in her Captain America uniform, and then to the rest of the Avengers, and said, “This way.”

There was rubble everywhere, concrete walls crumbled around destroyed offices, furniture upturned. Steve wasn’t sure how much of it he actually noticed. His hearing still seemed off, like it used to be when he was a kid, when he got knocked in the head in an alley fight and Bucky would get him back on his feet again. 

The man led him through the wasteland of a lobby to where a small crowd gathered around a body lying on the floor. 

Bucky wasn’t dead. Two medics were working on him, trying to treat him. He writhed with pain from a gut wound that was bleeding out. Glass was everywhere, the bodies of two of the hostiles bloodied and broken a couple of feet away. Bucky wouldn’t hold still.

Steve went down on his knees and took hold of Bucky’s head, saying his name over and over again until Bucky stopped struggling, shifting his eyes to meet Steve’s. 

Sound returned with a snap. “Steve?” asked Bucky, with wonder and a relieved smile. 

“Hey, pal. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you,” said Steve. 

“You’re here,” said Bucky, with a sigh. He gripped at Steve, at his face, smearing blood. “You came back.” 

“Yeah, ya dummy. I said I would, didn’t I? You think I’d ever leave your dumb ass, think again.”

With Bucky lying more still, one of the medics was able to inject a painkiller into his neck, and some of the strain left Bucky’s face. 

“The kids, Steve?” asked Bucky, swallowing. “Is everyone okay? Did they get out?”

“They’re safe. Every last one of them. You saved them, Bucky. You saved them all.” Steve knew that, on any given day, the Outreach Center usually had somewhere between 200 to 400 people walking through its doors. It was one of the larger of the Centers. 

“That’s good,” said Bucky, closing his eyes. 

Steve shook him, pinched him hard. “Stay with me, Bucky. You stay with me.”

Bucky opened his eyes again, and then he looked down at the gory mess on his chest. A medic had cut away Bucky’s clothing, and sponged the blood, revealing the extent of the wound. It was a jagged line. “Oh, God,” he said, growing pale. 

“Hey, keep your eyes on me, come on, look at me,” said Steve. “You’re always telling me, aren’t you, how great the health clinic is here, right? Best in the world. They’re gonna patch you up, right away.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening. “Steve,” he said. “I’ve got to tell you.”

“No,” said Steve, shaking his head. “No, it’s all right. We’re going to take you to the clinic. They’ll fix you up.” But the lead medic gave him a look. “What is it?” asked Steve, turning to them. 

The medic, a woman in her mid-thirties, very pretty with a mess of freckles over her brown skin, shook her head. “We need to stabilize him first, sir.”

“Okay,” said Steve, shifting to make room. “Do you have everything you need?”

She didn’t bother answering, returning to treating the wound. Steve kept one eye on Bucky, and one eye on the medics, watching what they were doing. He recognized a nanite device, seeing the white foam cover the wound. 

“You’re going to be all right, Bucky.”

“Steve,” said Bucky, and he touched Steve’s face, tracing it with a finger. “It’s better this way,” he said. 

“What?” asked Steve, watching the nanites. He could see that they were failing to close the wound. “What’s wrong?” he asked the medics. “Why aren’t they working?”

The medic injected more nanites. “I think it’s the weapon they used,” and Steve looked around for it, found it lying a few feet away. It was a cobbled together piece, mostly alien tech bound to a metal handle, and topped with a gleaming coppery spearhead, one of the weapons from the Battle of Wakanda. “It has some kind of toxin. It’s preventing the nanites from latching on.”

More blood leaked out of Bucky. The two medics resumed their work, trying to clamp shut the hemorrhage with conventional tools. But as soon as they seemed to get a handle on it, another bleed started. 

“Come on, Bucky,” said Steve. Bucky had grown alarmingly pale. “You’ve gotta fight this.”

“Steve,” said Bucky. “The kids are safe. It’s better this way.” 

Steve shook his head. In desperation, he thought of tearing his own skin with his teeth to open a vein, and pouring his blood into Bucky. He had plenty of it, full of serum that wasn’t doing him any good. What good was it, if it couldn’t heal this? 

“Steve,” said Bucky, and he touched Steve’s face again, raising both hands, one metal and one flesh, to take hold of him. “I have loved you my whole life. Even when I didn’t know you.”

“Oh, God, Bucky,” said Steve, choking on his words. “I love you, too.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing again, working his tongue to moisten it. “This isn’t the end of the line. I’m not leaving you. I go where you go.”

No longer able to speak, Steve nodded. He pressed his forehead against Bucky’s, holding tight to his slippery hands. They breathed the same air, until Bucky’s chest failed to rise. No one was speaking but they were not alone, surrounded by those that Bucky had saved. 

Steve hung on for hours, until Margaret gently pulled him away so they could take Bucky’s body. He hung on through the days and weeks it took to arrange the funeral. He came alive long enough to ensure Bucky was remembered properly in the memorial service, and in the press. Bucky wouldn’t have cared about being called a hero, but Steve made sure they showed both the good and the bad, both Captain America and The Winter Soldier. All of it was part of who Bucky was, and he deserved no less than the truth. He earned that right. 

The events at the Outreach Center were reported ad nauseam, and wherever he went Steve couldn’t escape it. Someone, one of the hostage survivors, had recorded him with Bucky, every word they had spoken to each other, everything said and done, analyzed and examined and watched over and over again. It was like acid poured over an open wound each time he couldn’t avoid a clip, or saw a transcript or a quote. 

He spoke to his attorney, a woman from Wakanda, and arranged to put his estate in order. If in six months he didn’t return, the attorney had instructions on what to do. His property had grown to include everything Sam had left him as well as everything Bucky owned. All of his physical possessions, Sam’s house and his Brooklyn apartment, and especially the stuff Tony had left him, would go to Margaret Klein. His money, he divided evenly between Sharon’s children and Barton’s children.

He buried Bucky next to his mom, in Brooklyn. Thousands attended the funeral. After, Margaret insisted she stay with him, and arranged for guards stationed 24/7 outside his building. 

“I’m just going to go to my room,” Steve told her, grateful to her but also at his limit. Alone at last, he wrote final letters to King T’Chema, to M’Baku, and Shuri, and one more for Margaret. Then, Steve Rogers shrugged on a backpack that held a fake I.D., a few articles of clothing, and a wad of cash, slipped out of his window and climbed onto the roof, vanishing into the night.

*

He started out on foot. Steve had a particular destination in mind, and didn’t care how he got there. Walking was as good a way as any. In fact, it helped settle his mind, and he worked through some of his grief. He wasn’t in a hurry.

But walking for thousands of miles eventually got rather tedious, so he hitched rides or paid a ticket for the bus. He even took the train from Indianapolis to Kansas City. 

Sometimes, someone got a whiff of Captain America and he would have to do a hasty departure, but for the most part no one recognized him. He’d grown back the beard, although it was more of a scraggly mess, not really fit to be called a beard. More like days-old bad grooming. His sense of decorum got the better of him, and he spent an hour in his motel bathroom cutting his hair and cleaning up his face. Not a full beard, but not clean-shaven either. 

As he walked, he wondered if sleeping through seventy years and then waking up to find almost everyone he’d ever known or loved gone was preferable to living through each loss. They both sucked, he decided, but he knew he wouldn’t have traded the last few decades for anything in the world. 

It took him over ten weeks to get there. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Sam teasing him. “What, you decided to be lazy? Didn’t want to run all two thousand miles? I thought you could do that in an hour.”

In the middle of December, the Grand Canyon was past season, and the trails on the south rim were almost vacant. Steve paid his fee, and meandered around, up and down different trails. He climbed a ridge he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be on, and then waited. He thought he would wait until morning. Not sure why, just that morning felt like a better time. He wanted to see the sunrise over the ridge. It was a chilly night, but he hardly felt the cold, dozing for a few minutes here and there. 

In the morning, he stood on the ridge, and watched the sun break across the wide ragged crack in the earth’s crust, casting pink and yellow and rust-colored light. He could see hang gliders on the opposite ridge. It made him think of Sam, and he took that as a good sign. 

“Thor,” he said, finally. He cleared his throat, rough with disuse. “Thor. I’m ready.”

At first, nothing happened. He thought maybe he had it wrong. Or he hadn’t spoken loud enough. He licked his lips, inhaling to try again when he heard the rush of the Bifrost. A blinding white light tinted with the color of the rainbow landed on the ridge. Steve shielded his eyes until the light vanished, and in its place stood Thor. 

Thor smiled when he saw him. Not quite believing that he was really there, Steve could only stare. 

“My friend,” said Thor, walking toward him with his long stride, grinning from ear to ear. He took hold of Steve by his arms, getting a good look at him. “It’s so good to see you.”

Steve took him in, unable to stop staring, not sure what to say. It was like a dream. Thor looked almost exactly as he had all those decades ago. His hair was a little longer, but not nearly as long as it had been before. His eyes were still mismatched. He gripped at Thor’s armor. 

Thor studied his face, concern creasing his eyebrows together. He placed his left hand over Steve’s chest, over his heart. At once, Steve felt a lessening of pressure, lifting his gaze to meet Thor’s. 

“It’s been a long time,” Steve managed to say. 

“It has,” said Thor. “Some things are worth the wait. Come with me? It’s time I took you home.”

Thor brought his arm around Steve, holding him close. Steve dug his fingers into Thor’s side, and closed his eyes as the Bifrost opened up and carried both of them away.


	2. Part 2

Part II

Steve couldn’t ignore the insistent patch of sunlight that splashed right on his face. He opened his eyes and looked around, barely recognizing the room he was in -- a large airy room, big bed, open windows along two sides. The walls were a mixture of stone and wood, painted with patterns and pastoral scenes, maybe a kind of stenciling. There were woven rugs on the floor, and animal pelts strewn across the bed. A mirror on the opposite wall reflected his confused, sleep-roughened expression. He still bore signs of his long journey. 

As he became more awake, Steve heard a distant commotion, several voices yelling and calling to each other. It didn’t seem violent, so he relaxed, and the more he listened the more he heard music and laughter, a kind of singing. 

He could sense that he was alone though, with no one else in the immediate vicinity. Someone had left a tray of food on a table near the bed. He got up, noticed he was naked but couldn’t find a robe. He ended up using one of the skins. The soft fur was the kind of sensual that had always made him blush. 

Tentatively, Steve explored his room, munching on a piece of buttered bread. He discovered a subtle force field on the windows, keeping the room at an even temperature. His view opened to a rolling field with trees scattered nearby, and cliffs and mountains in the distance, a hint of a dark blue sea beyond the cliffs. He found folded clothing on a trunk, next to a pair of boots. A door on the side led to a private bathroom. It was a well-appointed bathroom, with all the regular bathroom things. The large wooden tub took up most of the room. Both the bathroom and the bedroom had a decidedly rustic feel, like he somehow found himself in a kind of posh Norwegian hotel that purported to be authentically Viking. He guessed. Since he’d never actually been to any sort of hotel like that ever. Fiddling with the tub, he figured out how to get the water going. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d soaked in a bath. 

After his bath, he took stock of his face in the mirror. Walking for so long had made his face tanned, darker than the rest of his body, but that would probably go away in a couple of days. He wondered if Asgardians had barbers? 

He wandered back into his room and finished eating his breakfast, suddenly ravenous. The food was delicious -- some kind of porridge with honey, fruit and nuts, cold cuts and cheese and fresh bread -- magically kept at a perfect temperature despite probably having been left for hours. Once fed, he knew it was time to get dressed and go outside. Whatever was causing the yelling and singing hadn’t stopped. 

The clothing fit him perfectly. He put on a pair of snug dark navy leather trousers, thick socks, and comfortable boots. The tunic was also snug, the color matching the trousers, and made from some kind of warm material. It wasn’t lost on him, as he looked in the mirror, that although nothing at all like his Captain America uniform, it was still a close Asgardian approximation, and he had to laugh. 

He left his room, looking around the hallway. There were other doors, other chambers. He took the stairs down two levels, wandering through more hallways, more rooms, through a large banquet hall, a throne room that looked unused, until he found two large wooden doors leading outside. He didn’t run into a living soul anywhere; the entire building seemed abandoned. 

The fresh, crisp spring-like air cleared his head further. He could smell the sea as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He looked back at the building he’d just exited. It was built into a large hill, with rooftops resembling the hulls of ships. It had several floors and two wings, fanning out on each side. 

Steve followed the sound of voices. The courtyard opened up to stone-paved streets, leading to other buildings built from the same kind of stone. The -- it must be a castle or palace -- was built on a hill, the village fanning out around it. He could see the full scope of the settlement, the many different dwellings and winding stone paths leading to the nearby coast. A couple of sailing ships swayed in the ocean, tied to wooden docks.

The voices were coming from his left, from around the back of the main dwelling. There was a small forest, the trees whistling and shivering in the breeze. He rounded a bend and discovered a swirling world of activity. There where hundreds of people scampering every which way over a half-finished structure. Music was playing, mixed with the sound of hammering and saws. It took him a moment staring to realize he was watching an old-fashioned barn raising. 

He walked closer but no one noticed him. To the side of the half-finished barn, the Asgardians had laid out long tables under a festive tent. Children ran around barefooted. Both men and women dangled from wooden beams. They sang songs as they built. 

It was a large barn, an addition to an already existing structure that looked well worn. They had only raised the first half and were getting ready to raise the first wall of the second half. Men and women stood on one side, holding ropes, ready to pull, while a line of men and women stood on the other side, ready to push. Steve spotted Thor in the middle of the team getting ready to pull. An elderly-looking man, with a white beard and a felt hat crumpled up in his hands, excitedly ran around issuing orders, making sure everyone stood in the correct position. 

Like an orchestra conductor, the old man raised his hands and arms. They pulled and pushed, and the wall slowly went up. One of the ropes snapped. Everyone cried out, and the wall wobbled, about to crash. Steve sprang forward to help. It was heavier than it looked, and he had to grunt with effort. He didn’t think this was normal wood. He noticed anti-grav units stationed on either end, but they seemed not to be helping much.

“Perfect timing!” called Thor, shiny with sweat and straining against the pull of the wall that was still only halfway raised. “Glad you decided to join us.”

Steve grinned, and pushed. “Well, I had my nap,” he said, straining with the effort. The wall was raised, and Thor quickly hammered in stout wooden pegs while Steve helped wedge in the support struts. 

The workers then moved to the next wall, getting ready to raise it. Thor paused only long enough to grin at Steve and give him a pat on the face and neck. Steve blushed, shy of meeting Thor’s gaze for some reason. He was still not used to seeing Thor again. 

Someone handed him a pair of gloves, and he took position to raise the next wall. They made short work of it, and soon the skeletal walls of the new barn addition were raised. Everyone began monkeying around, hammering in wooden supports and fitting beams. 

The old man who seemed to be the one in charge went around directing everyone, slapping them with his felt hat when they didn’t move fast enough. Steve smiled when Thor got a whack for taking too long with a support beam. 

A whistle rang for lunch. Everyone trooped out to the tables, but Steve lingered by the skeletal barn, examining the wood. He sensed Thor approach. “What is this stuff?” he asked. It seemed the easiest thing to start with. 

“A composite material,” answered Thor. “My people call it truwood, a blending of wood and metal, native to this planet.”

“That’s why it’s so heavy,” said Steve, lifting one of the beams that lay on the ground. It easily weighed a couple tons. When he dropped it, the ground shook. 

“We’ve used truwood as the bones for our structures, with regular hard wood over it, and then stone from our quarry. The truwood forests are found deeper into the interior of the continent, and only Stormbreaker can bring them down.”

Steve gazed at the beams, then turning to look out to the ocean, across the sprawling village. It looked very much like every ocean he’d ever seen, except for the wild coastline that he knew was nothing that could be found on Earth. He remembered seeing it in his dreams. “What are you calling this place?”

Thor followed Steve’s line of sight. He seemed pleased with what he saw, proud of what the Asgardians had accomplished since settling on the planet. “In the language of Earth, we call this Asgard 2.0,” he said. 

Steve laughed, and he felt suddenly at ease. They grinned at each other. 

“Would you like a tour?” asked Thor, doing a bad job of hiding his eagerness to show Steve around. 

“Yeah,” said Steve, smiling fondly. “That’d be great.” 

First, Thor led him down to the lunch table, introducing him to everyone there. “This is my friend, Steve,” said Thor, beaming. 

Steve received a lot of careful looks, mostly friendly but a little cautious. Several stood to introduce themselves with names like Einar and Sverrir, Unna and Hanne. Someone packed two lunches for Thor and Steve, which Thor slung in a pack across his back along with his giant axe. 

Thor led Steve up to the already existing barn where he halloed loudly until a young stable hand popped out of a stall, wielding a pitchfork. “My horse,” called Thor. “And one for my friend, Steve.”

The boy scampered away, returning quickly with two horses. In less than a minute, they had their saddles and bridles on. 

“Horses?” asked Steve, trying to hide his unease. 

“Yes,” said Thor. “How else shall we tour the land? These are descended from the stock we took from Earth, bred with our own Asgardian horses. That’s the reason for the new barn. We need a home for our growing herd of brood mares.” Thor paused and then turned to Steve. “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” said Steve, and Thor laughed at him. Steve had actually ridden horseback several times during World War II, when it had been the only way to cross unnoticed through the Austrian Alps, but that had been zig-zagging over switchbacks at a snail’s pace. Not to mention over a hundred years ago. In Wakanda, the Border Tribe used horses, but he and Bucky had never ridden. 

The mare that would be Steve’s ride turned her head to look at him. A lovely dark bay, she had a doe-like face and large, inquisitive eyes. She nosed his pockets for treats, then snuffed at his neck. 

“Well,” said Thor, mounting his gray horse. “She likes you. Her name is Mossy. Get your foot in there. Swing your leg over. If you fall off, get back on.”

Steve did as ordered, grabbed the reins and settled into the saddle. Soon they were off, trotting across the barnyard. Thor started the tour by pointing out all their livestock, the chickens and goats, the different animal pens. They had an entire shed just for cheese. “The cows and sheep are out on the grazing lands,” said Thor. “We’ll ride there, too.”

Thor took him all over the grounds, then out into the streets of Asgard 2.0, pointing out a few of the buildings. “That’s our school,” said Thor, “And over there is a theatre and a library. Some shops.”

They rode past the large hangar where the spaceships were kept. There were taverns and more dwellings, different kinds of storefronts. He saw artists’ workshops and merchant wares dangling from windows, the all-important brewery, a waterworks type plant that took care of the plumbing. The streets appeared empty, but Steve knew now that most of the Asgardians were helping with the barn raising. 

“You’ve done an amazing job,” said Steve, admiring the stonework, the attention to detail. He saw many modern and magical conveniences in this half-built, out-on-the-edge-of-nowhere settlement. It reminded him of Wakanda. The Asgardians had the same blend of technology and science mixed with tradition. “I would have liked to have seen the old Asgard, maybe,” he said. “But this is a beautiful place.”

It was perhaps the wrong thing to say, mentioning the old Asgard. Thor became moody and silent, a sharp contrast to how he hadn’t stopped talking since they started their ride. But then Thor stopped his horse, and Steve pulled gently on his reins, telling Mossy to stop too. They’d ridden over to a cliff edge, facing the village before the trail led down to the docks. 

“There’s less gold,” said Thor, breaking his silence. From where they stood they could see the progress on the barn. Most of the siding had gone up, and they had started on the roof. “But perhaps we can reclaim some of the grandeur of my father’s Asgard. With time.”

The sun, rising past its zenith, made the stonework of the village shimmer. “Who needs gold?” said Steve. “Look how it shines.”

Thor grinned, and they continued down the cliffside to tour the docks before heading back up and then down the coastline to the quarry. 

The quarry cut a deep scar into the side of a mountain, but it shimmered in the noonday sun. Thor’s rock friend Korg waved, and then ambled over. Steve spotted a few other workers loading up cargo beds with newly quarried stone brick. 

“Hallo, Korg,” said Thor, leaning over his horse’s neck to shake hands with Korg, and was nearly pulled out of his saddle. “How goes the quarry?”

“Hallo, Doug. Very rocky,” answered Korg. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Steve,” said Thor. “You’ve met before, actually.”

“So we have,” said Korg, grinning. Or, what Steve thought was grinning. It was a little difficult to tell. Korg then winked at him. 

“Nice to meet you,” said Steve. “Again.” He leaned over to shake Korg’s hand, expecting it to hurt but Korg was very gentle. 

“Any friend of Doug’s,” said Korg, with a wave. “Come back and visit.”

They rode away, over the top of the quarry and into the woodlands. “Why does he call you Doug?” asked Steve.

Thor shrugged. “No idea. Never stopped to ask. Think he might be slightly addled, to be honest. Made of rocks, you know.”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or frown and settled for a mixture of both. They continued on, riding through neatly ordered orchards and groves -- different kinds of fruit trees although apples seemed to be the most prevalent. He saw olive trees, oranges, lemons, almonds, walnuts. Alongside the orchards grew fields of grain -- barley, wheat and oats, trellises of hops. Thor pointed to another hill where vineyards could be found.

They rode over a drover’s lane, up further into the hills, leaving the cultured areas of Asgard 2.0 behind, entering a thick forest where the light dimmed. Steve did not recognize any of the trees. Some grew in twisted, incredible, mobius-like formations, but very large. “Do your people live this far out?” he asked. 

“A few do, yes. Those that prefer more solitude -- they tend the fields and the orchards, or are woodsmen, cutting down trees to mill the wood. There are several who live in these woods. A few even, who live out with the truwoods deep in the mountains. That is several days ride out. I’ll take you there, if you wish.”

They found pockets of sunshine, and dismounted to let the horses graze. Steve was hungry by then, and Thor brought out their lunch -- a couple of sandwiches, a jug of cold beer they passed back and forth. 

“How did you find this place?” he asked. 

“My friend Rabbit. He told us of this planet, helped us a great deal in the early days. He was extremely proficient with technology. On Earth, your scientists would probably call this a planetoid. It’s naturally hidden by a singularity near the edge of the system. My people are still defenseless for the most part. We are growing, but only have a few soldiers to replace all that we lost. And Valkyrie is particular, choosy when it comes to training. Not many ships can travel safely near the singularity without risking their lives.”

Steve remembered the talking raccoon. He guessed that’s what you found when traveling in outer space: sentient rock beings and cybernetically enhanced raccoons. Steve had a lot more questions. How far were they from Earth? What had happened to the old Asgard? Thor still hadn’t explained his eyes. But, then Steve heard a howl in the distance. “Is that…a wolf? Do you have wolves?”

“They are not wolves, but are very similar to wolves. There are also boars that bear no resemblance to boars. Wild deer creatures that are nothing at all like deer since they are carnivorous and have snouts more like a boar than the boars.”

“Do they attack?” asked Steve, more alert.

“Sometimes,” said Thor, grinning. “But I think we’re safe for today. The horses would be more skittish.”

Mossy, who lifted her head when she heard the howl, twitched her ears and then resumed munching grass. Her companion, whom Steve had learned was called Gull, hadn’t bothered to lift his head at all.

“What you really have to look out for are the spiders,” said Thor. “Big hairy ones.”

“Uh, what?” said Steve, instinctively looking around, resisting the urge to pull in his legs and arms. 

“With like, eighteen legs each and twenty-nine eyes, fangs as long as a bilgesnipe’s toe.” Thor held out his hands wide apart, approximating how big a bilgesnipe’s toe was. 

Steve realized Thor was teasing him. “Ha ha. Very funny. Are there spiders, though?”

Thor laughed. “I haven’t seen a spider. But there is yet much to explore. There aren’t any native snakes either,” he added, with a different tone. But he then smiled at Steve, laughing at him in that way that made Steve shake his head. 

Even though Thor said they were in no danger from the wolves, Steve heard a second howl. The forest chorused with a variety of voices -- the horses swishing their tails, the alien bugs buzzing, a bird squawking in an unfamiliar call, then trilling with a strange song. 

He realized that Thor was watching him, and they were both caught in a beam of sunlight filtering in through the trees. It almost mimicked the Bifrost. The light caught Thor’s left hand and wrist, like he had a golden fist. The clouds shifted, and the moment passed. 

“What?” asked Steve, when Thor hadn’t stopped looking at him. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Thor. 

Steve lowered his eyes, reminded that just the day before he had been on a completely different planet, God only knew how many light years away, probably several galaxies over. He’d done a good job most of the day of not thinking of Earth, not thinking of the past weeks of lonely travel. Not thinking of Brooklyn. Instead, concentrating on the moment, on this miracle planet and this god-like friend who smiled at him. “I’m glad, too,” he said, and meant it.

Mossy wandered over, deciding the grass underneath where Steve sat was better than where she’d been eating before, and nudged Steve aside with her big head. He smiled, and Thor laughed. “I think that means it’s time we head back,” said Thor. 

They mounted again. Rather than head back the way they came, Thor guided him on a forest path that wound around until they emerged high on the other side of the forest, some distance from Asgard. 

“I like it out here,” said Thor, as the horses slid and leapt and hopped over the rougher terrain. “Asgard is of course beautiful, and it is my home, but I like this wild country, as yet uncultivated.”

Steve agreed. Out here, he saw more of what the planet was like without Asgardian intervention, what it had looked like when Thor and his people first landed. An untamed potential. They worked their way to more level ground, into a field of tall rose-tinted grass and petaled purple flowers. 

As soon as the horses set foot on the meadow, Steve felt Mossy tense up beneath him, not in fear but gathering her energy, getting ready. Her ears turned toward him, listening. Steve looked over at Thor. He knew that Thor had taken it easy on him with the riding so far, mostly keeping it at a sedate canter or an easy trot, walking through most of the forest. 

“Hey, Thor?” he said. 

“Yes?” 

Their eyes met. Steve smiled, then he squeezed Mossy’s sides with his legs. With a squeal, Mossy leapt forward, kicking dirt onto Gull and Thor. Steve laughed and called back, “If you fall off, get back on.”

Thor yelled and then whooped. Steve heard thundering hooves, and looked behind him to see Gull gaining on Mossy. He leaned in close to her neck, grinning into the wind. 

 

~~

Asgardians did have barbers. They also had tailors and milliners, artists’ shops and leather goods stores, cobblers and blacksmiths, markets offering every kind of goods imaginable, from strange magical devices to hand-made jewelry. Steve asked the barber to trim his beard close, but keep his hair longish. He thought, while on Asgard, he might as well look the part.

In those first days, Steve thought he might sleep for a month straight. He felt fatigued in a way that had nothing to do with his physical strength. But every day he explored more of this new strange world, so wholly unlike anything in his previous life, yet also familiar, like a memory long forgotten. The wind off the ocean was always tangy and fresh, the sky a dramatic dark blue in the morning, then a stormy green in the evenings. 

He took several walks, bringing a snack, a brand new sketchbook and a graphite pencil, wandering among the apple orchards with a view of the sea, admiring the light shining through the trees. Sometimes, he would tack up Mossy and they wandered together farther afield. 

He explored the library, learning that the books were all recreations, saved from the destruction of Asgard because someone thought to download the collection before evacuation. He read up on Asgardian history, amused how often Thor featured prominently, and fascinated by how woven together with Earth the two cultures actually were. 

He learned that the planet did have seasons, but it was mostly a temperate climate. He had no concept of how long the days were, if the weeks and months and years were the same or even comparable to that on Earth. He woke in the morning and slept at night. 

Asgard was a constant hive of activity. Simply too much work needed to be done if they didn’t want the planet to revert back to its wild state. It was hard work, to terraform a planet, and Steve felt a little shame in having come into their society when most of the really grueling labor was already done. He made up for it by throwing himself into the rebuilding. 

Several weeks into his stay, he finished helping build a new healing room -- although “room” was not the word he’d use when it was actually several rooms and two floors -- but that was what everyone called it. A loud noise came from overhead, and Steve stepped out of the building to see a ship descend from the clouds. He recognized it as the same ship that had landed on Earth, when Thor had left. It spun in a graceful arc, then hovered as the hangar bay doors opened before landing. 

Beside him, Thor looked up with a mixture of relief and joy. “Valkyrie’s returned,” he said, leaving for the hangar. 

Steve followed, and watched Thor greet the woman he called Valkyrie as she disembarked from the ship. 

“Your Majesty,” said Valkyrie, with a smile, accepting Thor’s big hug. 

“Successful trip?” asked Thor. 

“For the most part,” she answered, then she noticed Steve and looked from him to Thor. 

“This is my friend, Steve,” said Thor. Steve had lost count how many times Thor introduced him like this. It made him blush every time.

Valkyrie’s eyebrows went up, but she nodded. “All right,” she said, obviously reserving judgment. “Come on, Steve. You can help unload.”

Between him, Thor, and Valkyrie’s crew of five other women, they unloaded the ship, full of supplies. 

“I couldn’t find the matter converter you asked for,” said Valkyrie to Thor. “I’ll have to try Xandar next time.”

“Never mind,” said Thor. “We can make do.”

The next day, Thor left with Stormbreaker for the truwood forests, shooting up into the sky and disappearing in seconds. At odds, Steve wondered down to the docks. They were prepping to break ground on a new dedicated Bifrost site, with the goal of eventually rebuilding the rainbow bridge. He helped grid out the area, then sensed someone standing behind him. He found Valkyrie watching with folded arms across her chest, intimidating in her all-black leather armor. A strong breeze blew in from the ocean, making her dark hair snake around in every direction. 

“Hello,” he said, uncertain what to expect from her.

“You know, when we first got here and started building all this,” she started without preamble, “His Majesty would stop us and say something like, ‘No no, make it bigger, and add another room, for my friend Steve, for when he arrives,’ or ‘My friend Steve would like that when he gets here, so we should make more of it, make it double.’ My friend Steve this, my friend Steve that. We thought he’d had too much excitement. First Hela, then Thanos. Affected his brain. Thought maybe he’d gone ’round the bend, making up imaginary friends that didn’t exist. Figured it was best we humor him. But then here you are. Steve. In the flesh. You took your time.”

Steve knew he’d turned a color to match the pink flowers growing on the side of the cliff. “Uh, yeah. Had some things to do first. I’m Steve Rogers,” he said, offering her his hand. “We met briefly, on Earth.”

“I remember,” she said, but took his hand. He hid his wince at her grip. “Thor says you can fight.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

She smirked, then nodded before turning to walk back up the path to the palace. He wasn’t certain what to do next or what was expected of him. She looked over her shoulder. “Well, come on. Haven’t got all day.” 

She led him to the training arenas in the palace courtyard, a place Steve had not ventured to explore yet. It reminded him too much of headquarters, the training weapons lined up for use, the padded arenas. 

Without a word, Valkyrie went to the center arena. One of her crew ran forward and handed her a wooden sword. With the sword, she pointed to the racks of other weapons. “Choose your weapon,” she said.

“Um… I don’t--” he started. 

“I said,” she interrupted. “Choose your weapon.”

It didn’t look like he was going to get out of this, and it wasn’t lost on him that she had waited until Thor was out of the picture for the day before approaching. Taking a breath, he went over to the array of weapons, walking down the line. His eyes fell on a round wooden shield, a little larger than his vibranium shield. It was heavy, but not made of truwood. He put the shield back, and instead selected a smaller arm shield and a wooden mace. 

She only gave him a moment before attacking. Taken by surprise, he staggered back, but instinct took over and he spun to meet her next strike. They fought across the arena. She swept his legs and he went down hard, rolling away moments before she pounded the dirt. It took less than a minute of fighting for Steve to realize that she completely outclassed him in every way. He re-strategized. Instead of going for strength, which he couldn’t match, he went for speed and agility. It was no longer about winning, but seeing how long he could stay in the game. 

He’d learned a lot from Natasha over the years, and he employed every trick. Steve yielded but spun fast, clocking Valkyrie hard in the back of the neck, sending her reeling. Taking advantage, he leapt, straddling her before throwing both of them backward, twisting so she’d take the hit. But Valkyrie kicked him in the solar plexus. He went flying, tucked and rolled, managing to block Valkyrie’s next move. 

It had been years since he’d fought an opponent that even remotely challenged him. Valkyrie pounded the dust out of every corner of his body. He slipped into the rare headspace of pure instinct and movement, without thought. They continued until they both stumbled over each other. He used his weight to pin her down, but she tossed him over her head. He landed with an “oof,” dazed as he stared up at the clouded purple sky. How long had they been fighting? By the light it was well into the day. 

She reached down to help him up, but her legs slipped out from under her, and they both rolled until they gave up. 

“Not bad,” she said, when they’d caught their breaths. “In another world, you might have been a contender.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she managed to stand up, holding out her hand a second time. He took it and they both groaned as he stood. “Thanks. I think,” he said. 

She grinned, and slapped him hard on the back. He stumbled forward. “I think this calls for a drink.”

He shook his head but limped after her as they went together down to the tavern. “All right,” he said. “But I warn you, alcohol doesn’t work on me. So, don’t think you can drink me under the table.”

She snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Five drinks of something called “A Witch’s Tit” later -- a drink that Valkyrie spent thirty minutes making Steve repeat over and over again to see if he blushed every time -- Steve’s brain felt thick and foggy but he still hung onto sobriety while Valkyrie stumbled around, trying to rouse everyone in the tavern into one more rendition of “I Am A Drunken Sea Maiden” as she climbed onto a table top, then promptly fell off. 

Steve barely caught her, and they both collapsed under the table. His head swimming, he laughed as she sputtered and tried to sit up. “I guess you’re all right, Steve, friend of Thor.”

He smiled. “Thanks.” Neither of them moved from under the table, making themselves comfortable as the rest of the tavern kept singing without needing further coaxing from Valkyrie. “Do you have a name?” he asked. “Valkyrie seems like more of a title than a name.”

She stared lazily at him, and he admired her dark eyes that saw far too much even when completely drunk. “I used to,” she said, leaning forward and pointing at him. “You know, I knew your friend.”

He looked at her quizzically, pointing in a random direction where he thought Thor might be. “Thor?”

She shook her head. “No. Well, yes, him. But I mean your friend. The other guy.”

It took him a moment, and then he knew whom she meant. “Bruce,” he said, doused in sobering memory. The fog of alcohol cleared instantly. “You mean Bruce Banner. The Hulk. You knew him?”

She smiled when Steve said Bruce’s name. “Yeah. Hulk. The Beast. The Champion. He was my friend,” she said, her eyes growing distant, and then she started talking. She told him about Sakaar, so distant and surreal a place his mind couldn’t comprehend it. She told him about the Contest of Champions, about Loki and Thor and a man called the Grandmaster. She told him about Hela, Goddess of Death, and what she had taken from Valkyrie, what she had taken from Thor. He finally learned how Asgard was destroyed, and why. 

Valkyrie paused, and they left unmentioned what had happened after.

“He never told you? About Ragnarok?”

Steve sighed. “A little,” he said. “Not the whole thing. There was… a lot going on right then. He didn’t seem ready to go into it.”

“No,” she agreed. “He might not be, still. He never speaks of his brother anymore.” Another long moment between them followed, and then she shifted closer, something in her eyes making him tense. “You must really like him.”

“Who?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know whom she meant.

“His Majesty. Thor,” she said, undeterred. “Do you have any idea how daft this is? You coming here?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“The other one only lasted a few months. Are you going to be like her?”

The other one? Her? Had Thor brought someone else here from Earth? 

“I mean, this isn’t your home,” said Valkyrie, looking directly into his eyes. “Do you know what that means, to leave your home? I’ve been there, mate. I know what it feels like when you have nothing left. I get it. But I also know you can’t run away from it.”

“I’m not running away,” he insisted.

“Right,” she said, skeptical, struggling to stand, wobbly on her two feet, plopping back down on her rear end. “Like I said, you must really like him.” Giving up on standing, Valkyrie pounded the ground. “Another drink!” she demanded. 

Before Steve could form any kind of response, Thor’s shadow passed over both of them. “I think that’s enough,” said Thor, with a look at the barkeep. 

“Excuse me,” said Valkyrie, her eyes flashing, struggling to her feet again. Steve stood with her, trying to help, but she pushed him away. “I say when I’ve had enough.”

Thor reached for her arm but she punched him, then in a blink of an eye held a knife at his throat. Thor seemed to expect it, unfazed. With a sigh, she patted him on the cheek, then patted Steve on the cheek too, before wandering off. 

Steve and Thor stood shoulder to shoulder, watching her disappear into the shadows. “Will she be all right?” asked Steve. 

“Yes, of course,” said Thor, with a tight smile. 

~~

The conversation with Valkyrie weighed on Steve, and he couldn’t shake it. He didn’t need Valkyrie reminding him how crazy it was to simply move to another planet, clear across the universe, with no other back-up plan. He had set a six-month time limit to make sure he knew what he was doing. He hadn’t made the decision to leave Earth lightly, and was all too aware of the days and weeks passing. But time had a different meaning here. 

Thor seemed to understand, and didn’t push. Instead, he took Steve on adventures, which was so typically a Thor solution to a perceived problem that it made Steve love him even more. They visited the truwood forests, which made the redwoods of Earth look like miniature Lego toys. They took a sailing ship, traveling by both water and air, down to the southern continent where a few Asgardians had formed a separate colony, bringing trade goods and collecting trade goods in turn. 

He had his first sight of a wolf pack roaming the interior, watching from horseback a couple of hilltops over, Thor handing him a pair of binoculars. Except for the thick fur-like hides, the “wolves” looked nothing like the Earth breeds, being three times the size and ridge-backed. “They will make great pets,” said Thor, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. 

The days and weeks continued. Steve woke one morning to a different energy thrumming through the palace, finding Thor in the throne room deep in conversation with Valkyrie and a man Steve recognized as Einherjar, an Asgardian soldier.

“What is it?” he asked Thor when Valkyrie and the Einherjar left. 

Thor looked grave. “Since the destruction of Asgard, every world in the Nine Realms has become doubly vulnerable. There are invaders on Alfheim. I am still sworn to protect the Nine Realms, more now than ever before.”

“How do you know? About the attack?” asked Steve.

Not meeting his eyes, Thor visibly swallowed. “With Heimdall’s death… it seems before he died, he was able to pass on his gift.” He then met Steve’s gaze. “I can see all the Nine Realms, and more. The entire universe, although the farther away, the harder it is to see.”

They were silent. Steve wasn’t surprised, although he thought maybe he should have been, but he had felt Thor watching him on Earth all those years. For some reason Thor seemed embarrassed in telling him. 

“That must have taken some getting used to,” he said. 

Thor grinned, then nodded. “Valkyrie is gathering what forces we have. We’ll be leaving by Bifrost in a few minutes. I’m not certain how long we’ll be.”

Steve frowned. “You don’t want me to go with you?”

Thor opened his mouth, then shut it again, before taking a breath. “I didn’t want to presume. This is not your fight.”

Steve felt his jaw tighten, the words, “I go where you go,” on the tip of his tongue. “I should be insulted,” he teased. “Why would I want to miss the fun?”

Thor smiled broadly, and took Steve’s face between both his warm hands, then gripped his arm hard enough to bruise. “It will be an honor, to fight beside you again.”

Steve knew he blushed from head to toe. “Same,” he managed. 

Valkyrie returned and not-so-subtly coughed. “We could stay and gaze at each other instead, if you wish?” she offered.

“Right,” said Steve, his face on fire. “Let me get my gear.” 

Ten minutes later he and Thor and all that Asgard had to offer -- fifty Einherjar and six Valkyrie -- traveled by Bifrost to Alfheim. In the back of Steve’s mind he made note that he had now been on three planets, not counting Earth. The Bifrost left them on a hill overlooking a chaotic scene of a village on fire, people screaming, and energy blasts exploding. Several space ships hovered, and Steve could see a swarm of men spreading across the valley. 

Steve stood beside Thor, in his new helmet and body armor, studying the position of the invader’s army, squinting up at the sun, taking note of the valley and the mountains and where the likely traps might be. The Einherjar and Valkyrie looked to Thor for orders. But Thor, casting his eyes briefly over the scene, turned to Steve instead. “Captain,” he said, meeting Steve’s surprised eyes. “Where would you have us?”

He was too stunned to speak at first, but Thor’s steady gaze didn’t let him go. Taking a deep breath, Steve turned to Valkyrie and the Einherjar commander. “All right,” he said. “This is what we’re going to do.”

~~

The attacks on the Nine Realms continued at irregular intervals. Asgard also came to the aid of The Nova Empire and Xandar, who hadn’t returned to their pre-Snap numbers for the decimated Nova Corps. They even came to the aid of certain factions of Ravagers and the latest incarnation of the Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor having developed a soft spot for them. He still called them Morons, but winked when he did so. It was reassuring, in a way, for Steve to find himself fighting robots even in outer space. Some things were universal. He lost count of the different planets he stood on, the variety of races he came in contact with, the astonishing array of life he came to know. 

He fought battles side-by-side with Thor and Valkyrie. He accompanied Valkyrie and her crew when they took her ship for supply runs on Xandar. Combined with the continued work of rebuilding, the weeks slipped past one by one. His self-imposed six-month time limit came and went. 

On Vanaheim, Steve and a squadron of Einherjar held the line against a horde of marauders. They only had to hold out long enough for Thor to arrive, and he was beginning to wish Thor would get there already, the marauders savagely ripping through a row of soldiers. A cry was heard, and then the blinding light of the Bifrost parted the marauders like a hot blade. Out of the light Thor and the Valkyrie came charging on horseback.

The tide of the battle turned in their favor, and Steve ordered his squadron to fall back and circle around to catch any marauders trying to escape to their ships.

Thor, backlit by the sun, came galloping into view, he and Gull both shining in their armor. 

“Were you napping again?” asked Steve.

“Had to make my entrance,” answered Thor, leaning down as he galloped to take hold of Steve’s arm. Steve swung onto Gull’s back behind Thor, and they spun to charge through the center, joined by Valkyrie and her fighters. The rest of the marauders scattered. Steve, holding on to Thor, spotted what he had been looking for. 

“We have to stop those ships from leaving,” yelled Steve over the battle noise. “Get me closer.”

Thor charged up the hill, behind the village. Steve timed it, leaping from Gull’s back, doing a tuck and roll when he landed on the hull of the bigger ship, sliding down its side. With his shield and mace, he knocked out the mean-looking marauder left on guard. Inside the first ship, he found the village children penned up in cages, ready for transport off world, intended for the slave trade. With the edge of his shield, he broke through the cage locks. “Quickly,” he said, ushering the children from the cages. “This way.”

Steve herded the children outside then went to the next ship, knocking out a few stray marauders before releasing the adults that were kept in those cages. He was guiding the prisoners away from the battle, up the hill, when he heard a shout. 

A marauder with a bazooka-like weapon walked into view. Steve only had a moment, pushing prisoners away, before the cannonball launched. He raised his shield, but the ball hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backward to smash against the side of the ship before he crumpled to the ground. 

It felt like an elephant sat on his chest, then bounced up and down. He heard Thor call his name, panic in his voice, and then saw the jagged lines of lightning strike in every direction. Marauders fell in a collective heap. 

“I’m okay,” he wheezed. The ground thundered underneath him, and he looked up to see Gull’s hooves slide to a stop and then Thor jumping free to land beside Steve. “I’m okay,” he said again, gasping for breath. 

“You’re hurt,” said Thor, taking hold of him, trying to be gentle, anxious and concerned. 

“I’ll be…fine,” he insisted, although breathing felt like knives cutting through his left side. He couldn’t seem to get air in. Every word increased the pressure on his chest. “We have…to get…the villagers…away.”

Thor grimaced. “I’m taking you to the healing room,” he said, beginning to gather Steve to him.

“No,” said Steve, with as much force as he could. He knew he’d cracked several ribs, and he couldn’t seem to regain his breath, but he was strong enough to dig his heels in. “The people…first. Then finish…the fight.”

“Valkyrie has it well in hand,” reasoned Thor, trying again to get a hold of Steve. Another explosion rocked the ground. “Mostly.”

“Thor,” said Steve. “I’m fine. I’ll live. Finish the fight…Get these people clear. Take care…of our men…Then come back…for me.” Before Thor could argue more, he added, “That’s an order.” 

Thor looked outraged. “I’m the king,” he said. “You can’t give me orders.”

“Am I…the captain here…or not?” asked Steve. “Go!” 

Thor growled, but then did as Steve ordered. 

Alone, Steve struggled to stand, pressing his hand to his left side that had taken the brunt of the hit. He picked up a marauder’s bolt gun, then painfully climbed the hill, his breathing labored. At the top, he took a high position with a view of the village and the remaining pockets of fighting. Gasping, each intake of breath like shards of glass, he pulled back the action on the bolt gun, taking aim at a marauder charging for Valkyrie. Firing, he winced at the rebound, but pulled back the action a second time and inserted a second bolt, scanning for his next target.

When he stood still the pain eased, and he could feel the serum take charge, figuring out what to heal first. 

The battle wound down. Thor began taking their men back in shifts, first the wounded, then the rest. Steve stayed on the hilltop, sitting on a boulder and keeping a watchful eye on the stragglers, but Thor had ultimately been correct -- the Valkyrie had the fight well in hand. 

The pain, though easing, was still sharp, and the pressure in his chest hadn’t ceased. He waited ten minutes, maybe twenty total, before he heard the Bifrost. 

Steve smiled when he saw Thor striding toward him, axe in hand. “I’m glad you came back,” he said. 

Thor harrumphed, but then held Steve close. “I have half a mind to make you wait longer.”

“I’m sure I deserve it,” said Steve, in Thor’s arms.

Thor frowned. “No, never,” he said, and raised Stormbreaker into the air.

Back on Asgard a blinding moment later, Thor flew straight for the healing room on the palace grounds, bypassing many injured Einherjar and demanding a healer as soon as they landed in the yard. “This man is injured,” he called loudly. 

Steve started to protest -- he could take his turn like the rest of the men -- but one look from Thor and he shut up, knowing he’d pretty much pushed Thor to his limit.

One of the healers looked over and approached. “This way, your Majesty,” she said, leading them into the building. 

“I can walk, Thor,” said Steve.

Shamed, but only a little, Thor let Steve walk on his own. Inside, Steve followed the healer, a tall austere woman with high cheekbones and milk-white skin, into a healing chamber, assisted by a male healer who prepped the room for her. 

“Please lie down,” she said. “What are your symptoms?”

Steve, hiding the pain from Thor, slid onto a long table. He lay flat, looking first at Thor and then at the healer. “Chest pain, difficulty breathing.”

The healer touched the rim of the table and floaty sparkling lights filled the space above, roughly in the shape of a body. He guessed it must be some kind of diagnostic tool. 

The healer wiggled her fingers over the floating lights. “You have three broken ribs and your left lung has collapsed,” she said. “That would account for the difficulty in breathing. What hit you?”

“Some kind of cannonball…I think.” It was a little easier to speak lying flat on his back.

“That would do it,” she said, with a smile. Then, she tilted her head as she looked at the form of his body floating in the air above him, studying it closely. It looked like a mess of red and gold lights to Steve. “You’re human?” she asked. 

“Last I checked,” answered Steve.

“Your…” she paused, then turned to look at him. “Your cells. They don’t function like normal human cells.”

Thor, who had been hovering beside Steve, leaned in to speak. “He was given a magic elixir when he was but a babe--”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Steve, glaring at Thor. The healer watched both of them with her quick, piercing eyes. “I was a soldier…in Earth’s Second World War…injected with a serum. It gave me… enhanced strength…protective system of regeneration and healing.”

“Hm,” said the healer in a way that Steve thought would have had Dr. Erskine lifting his eyebrows in amusement. She turned back to the sparkling floating lights, made a few adjustments and immediately Steve felt the pain disappear and he was able to take a deep breath. “I’ve set your ribs and allowed the lung to re-inflate. Your body can handle its own healing. Please try to avoid any cannonballs for at least a week.”

The floating lights vanished and Steve sat up, taking joy in being able to breathe normally again. “Thanks,” he said.

The healer turned to her assistant who approached her with a tray carrying a jug filled with a golden liquid and a glass. The healer poured the liquid into the glass and handed it to Steve. “Drink this,” she said. 

“What is it?” asked Steve, taking a sniff before raising it to his lips. It smelled light and sugary, and when he took a sip, it tasted like he’d swallowed a mouthful of sunshine. He looked at the glass again. The liquid swirled in constant glittery light. He felt suddenly like he could run the perimeter of the entire continent in less than a minute. 

“Apple juice,” said the healer, with a twitch of her lips. She tapped the glass. “All of it, if you please, young man.”

Steve finished his juice, handing the empty glass to the assistant healer. Both healers then left the chamber, leaving Thor and Steve alone in an awkward silence. 

“See,” said Steve, attempting to get Thor to smile. “All better.”

Thor gave him a sort of half-grin, cupping Steve’s cheek with his left hand. For a brief moment, Steve thought he felt metal, and from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of gold, of rainbow colored light. But when he raised his own hand, he felt only Thor’s warm skin. “I have to return to Vanaheim, for Valkyrie and the others,” said Thor.

Steve nodded, standing up from the table. “I can go.”

But Thor shook his head, and gripped Steve hand tight before letting go. “No. You should rest. I’ll see you when I return.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he left the chamber, leaving Steve alone. 

~~

The revelries continued late into the evening, the food and drink flowing freely. Valkyrie and her crew took charge of the merriment, but Steve hung back, watching the soldiers have their well-deserved fun with a smile. The night was cool, and he wrapped his cloak close around him as he slipped away from the feast. Thor had stayed for the beginning of the festivities, long enough for the toasts and the storytelling, but had since claimed other duties. He hadn’t spoken to Steve all night, and it felt to Steve like Thor was avoiding him.

Steve knew where to find him, though. As silent as he could, he slipped from shadow to shadow, down the palace hill, through the streets, until he reached the docks. When they’d build the dedicated Bifrost site, stonemasons had put in a large throne-like bench seat, carved into the cliff wall. Anyone who sat there was sheltered from the wind, with an uninterrupted view of the sea and the skies. The masons had also carved Heimdall’s crest into the back of the bench, and carved scenes of his bravery into the cliff wall surrounding the site. It was meant to be the Watcher’s post.

“Mind some company?” asked Steve, stepping lightly down from the stone steps that lead to the site. 

Also wrapped in a cloak, Thor sat with one leg raised and his left arm resting on his knee, Stormbreaker beside him on the bench. He glanced at Steve with a gentle smile. “Not if it’s your company, I don’t mind,” he said. 

Thor shifted to make room. The sky sparkled with pinprick starlight so thick it made the night almost as bright as day. Steve knew if he asked, Thor would say the ropes of starlight were the branches of Yggdrasil. It didn’t fit Steve’s science education, nor did it match his experience, having now traveled across galaxies. But the stars did look like tree branches spreading across the sky. 

“I’m sorry if I was out of line, earlier,” he said, breaking their silence. “On Vanaheim.”

Thor glinted with reflected starlight, like he was made of stars, a constellation visiting from the heavens with star bright eyes and a burning star held in his left hand. But then Thor laughed and shook his head. He narrowed his eyes at Steve. “No, you’re not,” he said. “You were right. Why should you be sorry?”

“Okay, I’m not, not really. But I am sorry if it made you mad at me,” he said. 

“I can never be mad at you,” said Thor. 

It was Steve’s turn to laugh. “I’ll try not to test that.”

“You reminded me of my duty. It’s humbling,” said Thor. “You’re humbling.”

Steve didn’t know what to say, but his chest tightened like part of it had been left unhealed, with just a twinge of pain. He reached for Thor’s left hand and cradled it in both of his. Thor tensed, but he let Steve examine his hand. 

In the starlight, Thor’s skin was pale. Five fingers, rough with calluses, but his skin felt warm to Steve’s touch. He wove his fingers with Thor’s. It was an ordinary hand for the most part, attached to an extraordinary man, with no hint of the metal or the rainbow stones he sometimes saw. 

“How long have you known?” asked Thor, still tense, but he didn’t remove his hand from Steve’s. 

Steve looked up. He rubbed his thumb along Thor’s. It must be an illusion that made Thor’s hand look and feel like a normal hand. “From that first day when we fought Thanos, I thought I saw… But I don’t know. Not really,” he said. “And you don’t have to tell me anything.”

All of a sudden, Thor relaxed, letting go of his held breath. He kept his hand with Steve’s but held on tight with a bone-crushing grip. “Please. Ask me,” he said, almost a whisper. 

“Was it your choice?” asked Steve. “You didn’t destroy it.”

Thor shook his head. “It was necessary to make the others think the gauntlet destroyed. It almost was. Perhaps it could be done, using the stones themselves to destroy each other, but they are part of the universe. To destroy them is to maybe destroy the universe as well. I couldn’t risk it. And they won’t be kept hidden. We’ve tried that, separating the stones, hiding them on different planets… For how long will they stay hidden? Waiting for another Thanos?”

“So, you kept it? All this time, you’ve worn the gauntlet?” 

“I…yes,” he said, and he met Steve’s eyes. In their mismatched depths Steve saw the heavy, unceasing burden he carried. 

“But you don’t use it?” asked Steve, with a little confusion. “You could, I don’t know, rebuild Asgard. You could stop all the suffering in the universe. Today, you could have stopped the marauders… You could bring back…” Steve stopped abruptly, and he stared at Thor, his mind spinning.

“Should I do those things?” asked Thor, his brows creased, honestly asking. “Reform the universe to my will? Bring back all that I’ve lost? All that you’ve lost? Where would it end? If I started down that road, where would it stop? Would I become like Thanos?”

“You wouldn’t be like him,” said Steve, quickly. “You could never.” But he remembered the day Thanos fell, watching Thor take the gauntlet and wondering what would happen next, the universe balancing on a knife-blade, ready to fall in either direction, and Thor asking, “Are you afraid of me?” 

_I have to make a terrible choice. The stones require a sacrifice._

_Then you better make it._

Thor laughed, hollow and bitter. “You sound so sure. We don’t know what Thanos started out as, but we know what his obsession turned him into. Ultimately, it would be a corruption. I used the gauntlet to undo what he did. But no more.” 

Steve continued to watch Thor. Was Thor the sacrifice? How many sacrifices would finally satisfy the Stones? 

He returned his attention to Thor’s hand. “So, that’s the trick, I guess, with these damn Stones,” said Steve. “To have,” and he wove their fingers together again. “To have, but not to use. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“I do,” said Thor, and he smiled at Steve. “You would struggle. As I have. But you would do the right thing. You alone of the other Avengers could lift Mjolnir. It is essentially no different.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Um, no I couldn’t. You were there, remember?”

“I do remember,” said Thor, turning to Stormbreaker, positioning the axe to present the handle to Steve. “Go ahead. Pick it up.”

Steve shook his head. “Thor. I can’t. There’s no way that I can.”

“The trick is--”

“Oh, there is a trick?” laughed Steve.

“The trick is,” continued Thor, not letting Steve derail him. “That most think you lift it like you lift anything else. They expect it to be heavy. They bend their knees, and grunt and try to use muscle, like it is any other ordinary heavy object. There is nothing ordinary about Stormbreaker. You don’t lift it with mere physical strength. What makes you worthy? There are many good, self-sacrificing people in this universe, worthy in every other way, who could never lift it because they are too limited. You lift it with pain. With loss. With struggle and heartbreak and sacrifice, all those things. But not just your pain. Not just your heartbreak and sacrifice. You must have strength beyond the physical, beyond just yourself, or else it would tear your mind apart. Try it.”

“Wow, you really know how to sell a thing, don’t you?” said Steve, but Thor was unwavering, his eyes locked on Steve’s. Steve shook his head, but he could amuse Thor, if that’s what he wanted. Maybe jolly him out of this dark mood he’d fallen into. He’d try to lift Stormbreaker, and Thor would laugh at him, and they could return to the festivities and call it a night. “Okay,” he said. “Have it your way.”

Steve stood to get better leverage, and Thor did the same, with Stormbreaker on the bench between them. The wooden handle was smooth in Steve’s hand. He did an experimental tug. The axe didn’t move, like it was rooted into the stone bench, rooted down deep and part of the planet. He thought back to everything Thor had just said, about loss and sacrifice, and his mind went immediately to Bucky. And then his mind went to Sam and Natasha and Tony. He thought of Peggy. He thought of Thor surrounded by the other Avengers, and Bruce Banner’s body lying on the ground, Tony yelling, “Bring him back.”

He remembered the plane shaking all around him, the cold blast of air from the broken hull, flying over white wastelands. _I got to put her in the water._

Steve looked down at Stormbreaker, and he remembered what it meant to carry the Captain America shield. Not what it felt like, but what it meant. And then, it came to him, like a thunderbolt. If Stormbreaker was as heavy as the planet, then he needed to swallow the planet inside of him, to be worthy enough to lift it. If Stormbreaker, forged in the heart of a dying star, weighed as much as Thor’s sacrifice, then to lift it he needed to balance it with the same. 

With a cry as if his soul were being ripped out of him, Steve lifted Stormbreaker into the air. The power of it shot down his arm, across his body, into the soles of his feet, deep into the earth. Steve wasn’t a child of Odin. He wasn’t King of Asgard, and didn’t have thunder and lightning flowing in his veins. The axe didn’t channel lightning for him. Instead, in his hand it felt like the axe could stop anything. It could shield him and all he loved from every danger, every threat. 

Beneath the glow of Stormbreaker’s blade, Steve met Thor’s eyes, white with lightning fire. He lowered the axe and stepped forward, cupped the back of Thor’s head, and kissed him. With a muffled cry of joy and triumph, Thor brought his arms around Steve.

Desire coursed through Steve’s body. They both held Stormbreaker, and the next thing he knew they flew through the air. Without breaking apart, they landed on the balcony outside Thor’s bedchambers, crashing through the open window, and stumbled toward the bed.

With a gasp and a blinding flash of lightning, both Steve and Thor were stripped of their clothes. There were suddenly acres of naked Thor to explore, his skin smooth against Steve’s. Thor pushed Steve onto the bed. Distantly, Steve registered the heavy _clunk_ of Stormbreaker dropping to the ground as he stared at Thor towering in front of him, caught in gleaming lamplight. Steve surged up to kiss him again, pulling him down onto the bed. The slide of skin against skin, the thrust of his cock, hungry for more Steve wove his hands through Thor’s hair, then scraped down his back to the swell of his ass, pulling him in as Steve thrust up. 

Thor brought a hand between their bodies. Steve grunted, staring into Thor’s eyes with each thrust, breathing wetly. Steve felt his orgasm start down by his feet, at the ends of his fingers. He thrust faster, coming when Thor bit his neck. Thor pinned him down, thrusting again and again, until he came too. 

They caught their breath, Steve’s chest pressing against Thor’s. After a moment, Thor rolled onto his back. They lay close enough that Steve could hook his fingers with Thor’s, waiting for his heart to stop racing. 

Thor produced a soft hand towel from somewhere, and he rose onto one elbow, cleaning their sticky mess from Steve’s belly, glancing at him with a smile. 

“Hey,” said Steve, tracing Thor’s eyebrows, his nose, his lips. Thor licked at Steve’s finger, sending a bolt of heat through Steve’s cock, and it jumped up to half-mast. 

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

Blushing, Steve pushed Thor onto his back to straddle him, knees on other either side. He caught Thor’s arms, and raised them over his head, leaning down to kiss him. Thor made a noise deep in his throat.

“Lie flat,” said Steve, turning Thor’s head to the side so he could taste his neck, biting kisses across his clavicle to the swell of his left shoulder. Thor brought one hand down to cup Steve’s face. Steve kissed Thor’s palm before resuming his explorations. 

He sat up, his hands trailing across the hills and valleys of Thor’s chest, down to his stomach. Steve bit lightly on each nipple, then kissed the line to Thor’s belly. Thor rose up on both elbows, widening his legs, and Steve nestled in the valley between his thighs. 

Even only half erect, Thor’s cock was thick and long, its head emerging from its foreskin. Steve stroked up and down before he took the tip in his mouth, lifting his gaze. The look in Thor’s eyes made Steve gasp, his own cock becoming hard so fast it slapped up against his stomach. 

He concentrated, taking as much of Thor into his mouth as he could, pushing Thor’s thighs wider apart and licking down to the root before sucking him back down his throat. Thor grunted with effort, and then he dropped his head back, thrusting up, exploding into Steve’s mouth. He swallowed what he could, working Thor with his hand, who kept coming with soft cries. 

Gasping, Thor tugged on Steve until he got the message and crawled back up to lie beside Thor. “I’m pretty sure I’ve wanted to do that since New York,” said Steve. 

Thor laughed, a deep rumbling chuckle, rolling onto his side and raising his head onto his hand so he could look at Steve. With his other hand, he caressed down Steve’s chest to cup his erect cock. “You hid your desire well. I had no idea,” he said, squeezing and stroking up.

With a sharp inhale, Steve leaned closer into Thor’s warmth, and tried not to come too quickly. “There was a lot going on,” he said, a bit breathy.

“Hm,” said Thor, his eyes sliding down to admire Steve’s erection, of a size and shape to rival Thor’s. “If I remember correctly, your first words to me were ‘Hey, that’s enough,’ after you hit me with your shield.”

Steve grinned. “True love, obviously.”

With another pleased chuckle, Thor gave him a mischievous grin before taking the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth. 

Steve made a noise, swallowing a curse. Thor’s mouth was hot and insistent, tasting him before letting Steve slip from his mouth with a “pop.” 

“Don’t move,” said Thor, kissing him again, then kissing the head of Steve’s cock, before swiftly leaving the bed. 

Steve rose up onto both elbows so he could watch Thor stride around completely naked, enjoying his chance to look his fill without shame. Thor seemed to attract all the light in the room. 

“A ha,” said Thor, finding what he wanted and returning at once to the bed. He set a small jar down, taking position between Steve’s legs. Curious, Steve picked up the jar to touch and smell the ointment. Smooth, not too viscous, and it had a faint smell like apple blossoms. 

“Does it meet with your approval?” teased Thor. Blushing, Steve handed the jar back. With a smirk, Thor leaned in to kiss him again. “Is this all right?” he asked, nudging Steve’s legs wider apart, one slick finger exploring until he pressed into Steve. 

Steve nodded, his breath short. Thor kissed him again, and Steve grunted into his mouth, Thor’s tongue mimicking the action of his fingers. He pressed up and Steve arched his back, a spurt of come leaking from his cock. 

“Thor, I’m not gonna… I can’t--”

Thor didn’t stop, two fingers hooking up, pressing and massaging. Steve held his breath as Thor took the head of Steve’s cock in his mouth again. Steve let out a strangled cry, coming hard. 

Panting, Steve limbs spasmed as he tried to breathe. Thor was looking pretty smug, milking Steve through the last of his orgasm, bending down once again to suck on the tip. Even though he’d just come, Steve’s cock twitched.

With a half frown, half grin, Thor looked at him. “Are you always this responsive?” he asked. 

Steve wondered how far down his blush went. “Hey. It’s been a while. But yes, for the most part,” he added. 

Delighted, Thor picked up the jar of ointment again, taking a liberal dose. Steve watched Thor slicked up his cock, his own lengthening in interest. Thor moved to lie behind Steve so they were both on their sides, lifting Steve’s leg up. “Are you ready?” he asked. 

“Absolutely, yes. I’ve been ready,” said Steve. “Don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

Thor growled, pushing in, slowly introducing Steve to his size in shallow thrusts. They stopped talking, Thor’s fingers digging into the flesh of Steve’s hips, pausing halfway in. From this position, Thor could wrap his arms around Steve. The angle made sparks crowd Steve’s vision, and he wandered if it were lightning, if maybe his eyes had gone white with lightning like Thor’s. 

They could each last a little longer, after coming twice before, and Thor kissed the back of Steve’s neck as he began to thrust in and out. Steve caught Thor’s hand, sucking on his forefinger. Thor grunted, thrusting faster. 

Steve turned so he could kiss him. They slowed down, Thor taking Steve’s erection in his hand, lifting up so he could look into Steve’s eyes as he pushed in, stroking Steve in time with his thrusts. Steve gasped, coming in waves, clenching around Thor. 

Despite how they lay, Steve held Thor when his orgasm came, and then he continued to hold him as they both fell asleep.

*

Steve didn’t sleep for long, waking to the insistent call of nature. He carefully removed his arms from around Thor and slipped from the bed. They hadn’t turned down the lanterns, and the room glowed with warm light. He didn’t bother covering himself up.

Thor’s bedchamber was similar in size to Steve’s, perhaps slightly larger and a little more opulent as befitting a king, but Thor’s bathroom was easily three times the size of Steve’s bathroom. It had two sunken pools -- a hot pool and a cold plunge -- as well as a separate bath tub big enough for two, a lounge with couches and cushions, a shower area -- Steve thought he recognized a sauna. Clearly, this was where Thor indulged his hedonism. 

The toilet was in its own room, thankfully. When finished, he wandered around and explored the rest of the bathroom. Sex was great, but he knew he could do with a shower. He heard a noise from behind and saw Thor framed by the door looking for him. 

“There you are,” said Thor. 

Steve still wasn’t used to seeing Thor in all his naked glory, and it took him a moment to find his words. “Um… this is quite a bathroom,” he said, wincing at how idiotic he sounded. 

But Thor merely grinned. Steve’s heart rate increased as Thor strode toward him, naked and aroused. “I’ve wanted to share it with you,” said Thor. Steve could only blink at him in answer, then gasped when Thor swooped in and kissed him. 

Steve was not aware of the noises he made. The shower started, like warm rain. Soap made everything slippery, lathered and slick, and they continued kissing as they washed, tugging on each other’s cocks until they both came, clinging in a wet embrace. 

Afterward, Steve indulged in the cold plunge, which woke him up good and cleared the sleep and sex fog from his mind. With water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, he watched Thor swim toward him, and they made out, shivering in the cold water. Steve tasted Thor’s clean skin. Thor lifted him onto the tiled floor, pushing Steve’s legs apart and going down on him without warning. The contrast between the cold water and his chilled skin and Thor’s hot mouth made Steve hiss and bite his lip, coming quickly. 

They moved to the hot pool, making out in a whirl of steam until the heat made them too lazy and lightheaded. They stumbled for the cushioned seating, not breaking their kiss, water sluicing off. 

“Again?” asked Thor in surprise when Steve reached for another jar of the ointment. 

“Like this,” said Steve, positioning Thor against a cushion, sitting on his lap, rising up so he could take Thor’s cock, guiding it in. He wanted to look at Thor with his cock inside him. He wanted to make out while he felt Thor deep inside, wanted his arms around him. 

When Thor came, Steve swallowed his cries, and then buried his face into the crook of Thor’s neck as he grunted his release.

*

When they finally returned to Thor’s bed, Steve noticed someone had freshened the room and changed the bedclothes. He wanted to be embarrassed, realizing that probably every person on Asgard 2.0 knew exactly what Thor and Steve were doing, but the sheets were clean and fresh, and he fell asleep as soon as Thor lay next to him, a warm presence at his back.

He woke in the late afternoon sunshine to Thor’s kisses, and smiled lazily at him. Another invisible person had brought a tray of food, and his stomach rumbled when he smelled the Asgardian version of coffee -- it wasn’t quite like coffee on Earth, but Steve knew they were trying. 

“Hm, I guess my stomach has an opinion,” said Steve.

Thor laughed and kissed Steve’s belly, before getting out of bed to bring the food closer. They fed each other, then took another shower, before going back to bed. 

The day melted away, disappearing between bouts of kissing and naked explorations. They had sex every way Steve could think of, but what he really loved was spreading Thor’s thighs and taking him in his mouth. Thankfully, Thor was indulgent. 

One day ended and another began. They didn’t stop, only pausing to sleep and eat and play in Thor’s bathroom. 

“Steve,” said Thor, waking him after they’d had sex again on his bed. “Hurry. Get dressed.”

“What?” asked Steve, groggy, but a shot of adrenalin woke him up. “Is something wrong? What is it?”

“No, no,” said Thor with a kiss, shoving a pair of pants into Steve’s hands, then tossing his boots at him. “Everything is fine. But we must hurry or we’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?” asked Steve, struggling to make sense of the urgency while also trying to wrestle his clothes on. After the past few days wearing nothing more than a towel or perhaps wrapping up in a blanket, wearing trousers and socks and a shirt felt strange. 

“It happens so rarely,” said Thor, like that explained it. 

In less than five minutes they were outside, walking a path that led up into the hills behind Asgard. Steve thought they could have taken the horses, but it seemed Thor wanted a nighttime hike. It took another fifteen minutes, hiking through a wooded area, up further into the hills before they reached the top. Steve had been up there before but never at night. The tallest hill had a 360-degree view of all of Asgard and the sea, and the mountains and truwood forests in the distance. At night, the sky was like a jeweled tapestry dome over their world. 

At the top of the hill there were a few rocks and a scattering of trees. Thor led him to sit on a boulder facing Asgard and the sea. Although they were alone, and he couldn’t see another living soul, Steve got the impression that there were others nearby, others that had taken similar hikes and were now also watching the sky.

“Why are we here? What’s happening?” asked Steve.

Thor pointed to the sky. The bright star that Steve knew was the singularity at the edge of the system flared, and then it seemed like it vomited color. Reds and pinks spilled across the night sky, a rainbow of color. 

Steve made a soft noise of surprise, and then glanced at Thor who was smiling at him. “What’s causing it?” asked Steve.

“The singularity has caught a star. It’s hungry. The light is the star’s dying words.” When he saw Steve’s fascinated yet slightly horrified expression, Thor laughed. “It happened long ago. The singularity distorts time. The light is only now reaching us.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Steve, although he wasn’t sure that made it better. “The singularity eats stars? Is it going to eat this one?” 

“It might.”

Steve stared at Thor. 

“You think it insane to make our home on a planet so close to a star eating monster? You might be right.” Thor seemed unconcerned. “When we evacuated my world, Loki, in his final flight, took more than the Tesseract. He also took Odin’s staff, Gungnir, sometimes called the Spear of Heaven. It was made on Nidavellir, same as Stormbreaker and Mjolnir. I used it to anchor this system.”

Steve thought there was probably a lot more to that explanation. He’d come to understand some of how Asgardians used science and technology to fuel their magic. If Gungnir was anything like Stormbreaker and Mjolnir, then he guessed it was more than capable of doing exactly what Thor described. 

With the mention of Loki, Thor’s gaze turned inward, unfocused as he looked at the sky. The star’s dying light painted a rainbow across both their faces.

“You miss him, don’t you?” asked Steve. 

They never talked about Loki, or Thor’s family, beyond a casual mention here and there. But Steve also never spoke of Bucky or Sam or Nat, or any of them, topics of conversation too laden with grief and regret. 

Thor’s eyes changed color by the light of the star, shifted into a rich green. “Loki was…complicated,” said Thor. “I lost count how often he betrayed me. He was the God of Mischief. Essentially, untrustworthy,” he said with a small smile. “But even so, I loved him, and I believe he loved me, too, in his way. We were brothers. That’s a bond not easily broken, despite his best efforts. In the end, he died for me.” Thor’s eyes glistened. “I do feel his absence.”

Steve felt his own eyes sting, and he brushed his thumbs at the corners of Thor’s eyes. Thor kissed his hand, then he studied Steve. “Tell me,” he said. “Of your years on Earth after I left.”

He shifted against the boulder they were leaning on, taking Thor’s left hand in his, threading their fingers together as he liked to do. 

“You didn’t watch?” he asked. Since learning that Thor now had Heimdall’s gift, he’d wondered how much Thor had seen. 

“Only enough to make sure you all weren’t setting yourselves on fire. I didn’t spy,” said Thor, a little indignant. 

Steve smiled, squeezing Thor’s hand to let him know he wouldn’t have minded if Thor had been spying. With a sigh, watching the light show weave colors together -- it was really a remarkable event -- he quietly spoke of those difficult first few years after the Fall of Thanos, how damaging it had been. “There was a divide, between those that had gone with the Snap and those that had been left behind. Sometimes, there didn’t seem any way to cross it.”

“It was the same here,” said Thor. “The same all over the universe. I know we look like the picture of harmony here on Asgard, but believe me it was not always so, and even now, my people struggle. And before as well. It was a golden illusion. Asgardians are long-lived, which can give us perspective, but it can also make us unstable. It’s why so many have chosen to live on their own, like hermits in the forest, or have moved to the southern continent. Why do you think Valkyrie drinks so much? We all hurt in one way or another. I see it on other worlds across the universe. The wound is deep, but it can be healed. The constant work of rebuilding helps, as does keeping order in the Nine Realms.”

“I guess that’s comforting, in a way. We’re all in the same boat. We all came together to defeat him.” 

While the light show continued over their heads, Steve went on to tell Thor about Wanda, and Tony, and Natasha and Clint, he even spoke a little of Sharon. How the Avengers became an institution, but after the Accords, Steve had never felt comfortable as one of them, or comfortable with the title of Captain America. He cared about the Avengers, though, and always came to their aid. He spoke of how the world changed when Wakanda opened its borders. He spoke of Sam, and those last few years they shared together. But he found it difficult to speak about Bucky. Steve had always been protective of Bucky, although he knew he was probably being protective of himself. Their centuries-long friendship had been too often displayed in the media, overanalyzed in ways that made Steve want to punch people. What he shared with Bucky was precious. It had started in childhood but was forged through war and separation and pain, and he guarded it close. 

Seeing that Steve struggled, Thor kissed him. “You know, I went to see Jane Foster.”

Bringing up his ex was maybe a bold move when distracting his current lover, but that did seem to be how the entire conversation was going. Steve folded his arms and stared at Thor. “Oh.”

“Not recently,” said Thor, laughing but then his eyes grew serious. “Her time came a few years before you arrived here. No, I meant when we first came to this planet. I brought her here.”

“What happened?” asked Steve, realizing that it must have been Jane Foster who Valkyrie meant, the other one that Thor had brought to Asgard. Steve had only met Jane a couple times, when they were still living at Avengers Tower. He remembered her as inquisitive and curious about the Avengers, and how she perked up when she and Bruce started talking science together. Jane used to be in the news a fair amount, between her relationship with Thor and the attention her work received, but Steve couldn’t remember hearing much of her in the later years.

The light show shifted from jeweled greens into golden yellows and reds. A dying star had a lot to say, apparently. 

Thor took a deep breath. “She was one of those who lived, she wasn’t taken with the Snap. It caused her to question everything, her mind unable to settle, to make sense of it. I thought bringing her here might help, and it did, for a while. But Jane couldn’t thrive so far from her home, so I took her back.”

“That must have been difficult,” said Steve.

Thor gave him a small smile. “It was, but I only wanted what was best for her. She continued her work, and that’s what she really wanted.” He paused, and at the same time it seemed like the light show paused, settling on red and a rich dark purple. “I wish I could have known your friend. I know he meant a lot to you.”

Steve swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to ease the pressure in his chest. “He would have loved this,” said Steve, looking up at the sky. 

He had no real clue what Bucky would have thought of Steve leaving Earth for Asgard, or of his relationship with Thor, but he was fairly certain he would have gotten a kick out of all of it. Steve had to do enough living for both of them now.

“He was all I had, for so many years.” Saying the words loosened something in Steve’s chest, and he smiled at Thor. “Come here,” he said, and Thor went willingly into his arms. 

They watched the last of the star’s existence. With Thor in his arms, Steve was able to tell him about Bucky, and how he had lived.

*

Back in their bedchamber, Steve stopped Thor from using magic to strip them of their clothes. “Let me,” he said, unclasping Thor’s cloak, letting it fall to the ground.

“Be my guest,” was Thor’s cheeky reply, trying to steal a kiss as Steve lifted his tunic over his head. 

They wrestled and laughed, until Steve pushed Thor onto the bed, yanking his pants down. Thor’s cock sprang free, and Steve took him in his mouth, moaning as Thor thrust. But Thor was too eager to get Steve naked, and he forced Steve to let go, laughing when his shirt got stuck over his head. 

Steve tossed his shirt aside, then worked Thor’s pants the rest of the way off, tugging off his shoes. Thor made him stand between his legs, undoing the ties on his pants. Steve inhaled when Thor took his cock and licked from root to tip. 

They lay in bed trading orgasms until the morning light began to creep across the ceiling and Steve fell asleep lying on top of Thor, his head nestled into the crook of his neck. He slept maybe four or five hours, waking in the exact same position he’d fallen asleep in, Thor’s chest rising and falling with each breath. Neither of them had moved at all.

Through the windows, Steve could hear the banging and clashing of wooden swords against wooden shields, knowing that the Valkyrie and Einherjar practiced in the arenas. Thor’s windows opened to views of the courtyard as well as all of Asgard and the sea beyond, letting in a cool breeze through the force fields. It must be at least mid-morning, judging by the light. 

Waking slowly, and reluctant to move, Steve traced Thor’s chest with a finger, listening to his heart beating steady and constant. He felt the moment Thor woke, taking a deeper breath, arms tightening around Steve, nuzzling the top of his head. 

They were in no hurry to do anything else but lie in each other’s arms. After a while, Steve shifted so he could put his weight on his forearms, on either side of Thor. Thor studied his face. He pushed up a little, but only so he could turn onto his stomach, remaining beneath Steve. 

Steve hummed, trailing a hand down the smooth expanse of Thor’s back, sliding his half-hard cock into the groove of Thor’s ass. Thor raised his hips, indicating what he wanted. 

“All right,” said Steve with a shaky breath, his cock hardening all the way.

Thor shifted, keeping his face hidden. Steve kissed his way down Thor’s spine, asking him to lift up, arch his back and spread his legs. At the first touch of Steve’s tongue, a rumbling thunder started, the morning light dimming as a breeze picked up. Steve didn’t stop, using spit and his tongue, working Thor open, one hand snaking underneath to milk Thor’s cock at the same time. Thor moaned into the bed sheets. 

Thunder clapped, and clouds rolled in, covering the bluebell sky. A light rain started. Steve reached for the jar of ointment -- that he had started privately calling Magic Asgardian Lube -- pushing a generous amount into Thor, spreading it all around. Thor’s vocal moans made Steve sweat, each whimper causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up his spine, making his cock jump in sympathy. But he took his time, preparing Thor thoroughly, working both his fingers and his tongue. The rain increased from a drizzle into a steady pitter-patter.

Struggling to control his breathing, his hands shaking, Steve positioned himself behind Thor. Lightning flashed, arcing across the piece of sky that Steve could see through the windows. Thor groaned as Steve pushed in, taking all of him in one go. More thunder rumbled, then cracked loud enough to make the bed vibrate.

Thor felt tight and hot. Taking a breath, Steve thrust forward, finding a slow rhythm. He pushed Thor down to lay prone on his stomach, his ass raised up. With a gasp, a muttered cry that could have been a swear, Steve put all his weight on his arms, finding the right angle. Thor cried out, matching the thunder outside. The rain began to pour, with more lightning tearing the sky apart. 

Steve slowed down but didn’t stop, shifting so he gripped both ass cheeks, stroking hard into Thor in a steady rhythm, feeling it build inside. Thor cried out until he clenched around Steve, grunting his release into the bed sheets. There was a blast of lightning, a small explosion like Mjolnir used to make when struck against his shield, and all the wall hangings crashed to the ground. Steve fell on top of Thor, coming in three final thrusts. 

The rain didn’t stop, thunder rumbling into the distance. Steve’s heart raced. Beneath him, Thor shook with the last of his orgasm. Through the window, someone yelled in an irritated voice, “OY, LOVEBIRDS. Do you mind? Could do with a warning!” that sounding like a very peeved and likely entirely soaked Valkyrie. 

Steve started laughing, knowing he was probably the color of a tomato. Looking flushed, Thor twisted out from beneath him, peering around the room and taking note of the tumbled mess, everything fallen to the ground. He grinned at Steve. “Whoops,” he said, looking out the window as the rain trailed off and blue skies appeared again. 

“Uh, yeah,” said Steve, also looking bewilderingly around. He still felt his orgasm tingling through his body. “Something to note for next time.”

Thor chuckled, sounding like soft thunder, and he scooped Steve up in his arms, tumbling back down onto the bed. 

~~

They made it five days before a knock on Thor’s door brought in the outside world. Thor slipped on a robe and stepped into the hall to speak with a messenger. When he came back in he looked preoccupied, frowning as he gathered his clothing and began to dress. 

“What is it?” asked Steve, looking for his clothes as well. 

“Hagen, who tends the far north cattle herds, has sent word that the wolves keep raiding. It’s strange, because they haven’t killed any of the herd, but they still raid. We make sure the wolves have plenty of food so it is not hunger that drives them. I must go and see if anything can be done.”

“The wolves who are not wolves, huh? Maybe they’re trying to tell you something. I’ll go too,” said Steve. 

“It’s not necessary, Hagen won’t need both of us,” said Thor, putting on his armor. “The wolves are mostly a nuisance. We don’t actually want to kill them. They are native to this planet and killing them would not be honorable. It’s just a matter of scaring them off.”

“Well okay. If you’re sure.”

Thor kissed him, lingering for a moment. “I’m sure. If you stay, it will motivate me to return that much faster.”

Steve grinned, but then frowned when he found himself alone. He dressed anyway, deciding he’d had more than enough of being inside. At first, he wasn’t certain what to expect from the Asgardians knowing about Thor and him being together. Did they care about same sex couples? Did it matter that he was human and not Asgardian? But every person he met as he left the palace either treated him the same as before, or they merely smiled. He received a lot of smiles. One older woman, pushing an applecart, smiled so broadly it was a little worrisome. She pressed an apple into his hand and patted his cheek. 

He wondering what to do next, if he should get his sketchbook or maybe find Valkyrie and see what she was up to, but then he heard his name called. He turned and found Valkyrie waving from the path that led to the barns. 

“Steve.” She looked breathlessly happy, running to meet him.

“What? What is it?” he asked, bemused. 

“You have to come. Right now. You won’t believe.” She rushed to him but when she got close enough to look at him proper, she made a face. “Ugh. Seriously? Do you have to look so satisfied?”

“What?” he asked, taken aback. Did he have something on his face? Was he showing a love bite? 

“Look at you. It’s disgusting. And it’s about time. Honestly. Do you have any idea what I’ve had to put up with? With his Majesty constantly questioning everything? And the whining!” She started mimicking Thor. “Do you think he likes me? What should I say to him? What should I do? How should I act? What should I wear? I mean, he would just go on and on. It was revolting. I was this close to begging you to take him, put him out of his misery. Take one for the team.”

“Uhhh…” said Steve, speechless and also really embarrassed. “Um, well, I guess I’m glad I could help?”

“You do know how to make a man work for it. Any other time, I’d be impressed, but it’s been torture. You have no idea.”

“Sorry?” said Steve, his face on fire, wondering if he could slip away and hide in his room. 

“But never mind that now,” said Valkyrie, transforming back into the excited, breathless girl she’d been a moment ago. She took his arm and pulled him toward the barns. “You have to come and see. It’s a miracle. Hurry.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll come. What is it? What do you want to show me?” 

They ran through the woods and down to the barns. Steve followed Valkyrie over to the new addition as she pushed open the doors. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark interior, and he inhaled the rich, fecund odor of livestock and hay. 

Valkyrie pulled him through the aisles until they reached a middle stall. There, a couple of other stable hands and a few from Valkyrie’s crew crowded around, but they stepped aside to make room. 

In the stall, a mare stood in the center, her head down, licking the face of a bewildered newborn foal. The foal, with a sooty dark gray coat, blinked and struggled to stand, still slick and goopy from the birth fluids. With a squeak, the foal pushed itself up onto four feet, wobbly and uncertain about this whole standing business. At first Steve thought the foal was misshapen, with two strange lumps on its back on either side, but then it shook its body and two wings expanded before the foal fell onto its rump with another squeak.

“Oh, wow,” he said, crouching to get a better look. The foal, making a lot of annoyed sounds, got back onto its feet and tried walking around. The mare nudged it with her nose, sending the foal forward, its legs clumsy and uncoordinated. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” asked Valkyrie, starry-eyed. “It’s the first one born in millennia.”

“How?” As far as Steve knew, he hadn’t seen any winged horses on Asgard. He was pretty sure he would have noticed that. 

“When they fled from Hela and evacuated Asgard, someone thought to take the archives that held genetic samples of all Asgardian plants and animals. That’s how we have the Golden Apples. It’s taken years. We needed to develop the herd, to make sure we had enough horses of good stock, before we could use the winged horse DNA and implant a few embryos. There are nineteen other mares, pregnant with winged horses.”

Steve watched the foal -- a filly -- hop and shake and stumble around the stall, its mother keeping a watchful eye. “You’re right. She is beautiful.”

They fell silent, and everyone crowded around the stall to watch the miraculous baby horse investigate its new world. Valkyrie held out a hand, and the foal wobbled over, tentatively stretching her nose for a sniff. 

“Get in there,” said one of the stable hands, with an accent that sounded Scottish to Steve’s ear. Valkyrie looked startled and uncertain. “She needs to imprint on you, or on someone if not you, else she might choose to fly away. Get in there.”

Looking nervous, Valkyrie opened the stall door and went in. The mare pinned her ears back, but Valkyrie went first to her and then crouched low to meet the foal. Before ten minutes had passed, she and the foal were best friends, with the foal leaning on her when she couldn’t find her balance.

“So, this is where you are.” Everyone turned to see Thor standing in a shaft of light from the clerestory windows. “Looks like we have a new addition to the family. Congratulations. She appears perfect,” he said. Although he was speaking to Valkyrie, Thor kept his eyes on Steve. 

“Hi,” said Steve. Thor looked muddy and freckled with dirt, and also incredibly handsome. Steve felt an involuntary tightening in his gut, and he wondered if he looked like an idiot, gaping at Thor like he hadn’t seen him in weeks when it had barely been longer than a couple of hours. 

Rolling her eyes, Valkyrie folded her arms and glared at them. “Look, I’m thrilled for the both of you, I honestly am. But please, go and get it out of your systems already. Spare the rest of us.”

Steve started to protest, giving up on not being embarrassed. It was just how it was going to be for a while. “No, this is important. I’d like to be here for you--” 

He made an undignified squawk when Thor took him around the waist and they flew through the barn aisles and out into the air. 

“I’m sorry,” said Thor. “Did you want to stay?”

Steve laughed, and held on for the short trip back to Thor’s bedroom. 

~~

The wolves continued to raid, becoming more aggressive. They came in packs, breaking through barriers, wreaking havoc with the cattle and sheep herds. Every two or three weeks, Thor received word of another farm destroyed, the farmers either terrified or angered to the point where they began to hunt the wolves. Thor had no choice but to take a squadron of Einherjar out to the hinterlands, into the wolves’ domain. He still hoped he wouldn’t have to kill the creatures and that perhaps he’d find a solution. 

Twenty-four men, those among the Asgardians with any experience with wild beasts, several of the Valkyrie, plus Thor and Steve, loaded into a couple of the Asgardian Skiffs, flying north. Thor had considered taking the horses, but changed his mind. The north country was an untamed place, and the wolves were unpredictable. Asgard 2.0 was still too young a settlement for them to risk the horses. 

Steve had only seen the wolves from a distance, and didn’t know what to expect. Like Thor, he wasn’t looking forward to killing them -- it didn’t feel right. But he understood that life was a delicate balance on the planet, and if it came down to it, to save his people Thor would do what he had to do. 

“What are you thinking? Any ideas?” asked Steve. They disembarked from the skiffs onto an icy mountain ridge overlooking a wide plain that held thousands of the creatures spread out across a great distance. 

“If we could round them up, maybe,” said Thor, looking troubled. It was the best solution they could come up with. If they could succeed in penning the creatures into a controlled environment, Thor could relocate them to another planet. 

With a closer view, Steve thought they looked nothing like wolves at all, but more like a cross between a buffalo and a stegosaurus, with wicked looking scales and a hump on its neck. The most wolf-like of their features was the pelt of black wiry hair all over their bodies, and a canine-type snout. 

Assessing the terrain and their few choices, Steve ordered the archers to hold a high position. “Take the skiffs,” he said. “Stay close, but don’t shoot unless ordered to.”

The rest took energy whips and stun weapons, spreading wide, descending into the valley. At first, it seemed to be working. They were able to herd the animals, and began driving them from the plains into a more protected and enclosed valley. 

A steady rain started, cold and stinging, melting just enough ice and snow to make everything muddy and slick. The rain obscured their vision. 

“Can’t you do anything about this?” yelled Valkyrie, her hair plastered to her face. 

“This isn’t me,” said Thor, with a glare. “It’s not my fault every time it rains.”

But it worsened, and wolves began to surge forward. Some of the men couldn’t hold the line, trying to keep the animals from breaking free. The first attack came from their left flank, a charge of several wolves thundering down from the mountainside. The lead wolf took one of the men into its mouth. The man screamed, but the wolf merely tossed him aside, flinging him through the air. Then, the second attack happened. 

“Fall back,” yelled Steve, wiping rain from his eyes. They reformed, but the wolves charged again, the rain making it difficult to see where they were coming from. He fought one of the creatures, stunning it until it lay still. Thor tried to lasso another with his whip, while Valkyrie used a staff to knock one unconscious. In the next moment they were completely overrun, until Thor rose into the air, wielding Stormbreaker, dropping down with an explosion of sound and lightning that threw everyone, animal and man, backward. 

The animals were only temporarily stunned. Regaining his feet, Steve ordered everyone back, but they were soon surrounded. Another attack blindsided from their rear, wolves charging and sending the men flying into the air. 

“There’s too many of them,” said Thor, muddy and bedraggled. He was looking up at the skiffs, the archers poised and ready. The soldiers switched from their stun weapons to their spears. Valkyrie drew her sword and Thor raised Stormbreaker.

Movement among the wolves caused a shift, and they parted to let one wolf through, different from the others due to his white pelt. His pale hair made him appear like a ghost, weaving through the other wolves, veiled by the unceasing rain. 

“Wait,” said Steve, his eyes on the white wolf at the center of the pack. “Hold your fire.”

Steve stepped out of the protective circle. The rain was ice cold, freezing and soaking through his armor. His fingers were ice. 

“Steve,” said Thor, but Steve didn’t stop, walking forward. Behind him, Thor held out an arm, stopping Valkyrie from attacking, telling the others to stand down. 

He had no idea what he was doing, moving purely on instinct. Steve removed his helmet, letting it drop to the mud, the ice-cold rain dripping down his face. The line of wolves didn’t move, but the ghost wolf in front lowered his head. 

Steve held out a hand. Without turning to see, he could feel the tension rolling off Thor, and he sensed the hovering skiffs moving into position above him. These wolves that were not wolves stood nearly head height with Steve. He closed his eyes, and then felt a hot, rough tongue lick the side of his face. 

Gross, he thought, smiling. He placed a hand on the wolf’s wet face, below its ear, and the wolf licked him again. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut as he thought of Bucky. “I go where you go, huh.”

One by one, the wolves stepped forward. Thor ordered everyone to put their weapons down. The skiffs landed. Cautiously, the men and women held out their hands, letting the wolves approach. 

After, Steve heard the story of how he tamed the wild wolves retold at many feasts, embellished and exaggerated. Each time he stopped the storyteller. “No,” he said. “They just wanted to be friends.”

Eventually the wolves became companions, sharing the planet with the Asgardians. They came and went as they pleased, weaving into their stories: one wolf chased the sun across the sky, and another wolf chased the moon, keeping the planet spinning. 

The ghost wolf remained in the north country, but sometimes he traveled down to Asgard and could be seen high on the hills, watching.

*

As it turned out, training winged horses was similar to training regular horses, except for the fact that they could fly away at any moment.

“Come back here, you dumb straw brain,” yelled Valkyrie, bruised and sweaty after falling twenty feet from her horse’s back, clutching her side as her horse flew away into the air, bucking and flinging her head. 

Steve tried not to laugh. This happened at least once a day. There was nothing to it but to wait and hope the horse would remember where she could find her favorite food -- golden apple oat mash -- and fly back. 

Valkyrie pointed her finger at Steve. “One word out of you, and I’ll cut your pretty head off and use it to store feed for my horse. If you dare tell Thor…”

“Oh, come on now. Would I do that?” asked Steve, totally innocent.

She glared at him suspiciously. 

He enjoyed watching the Valkyrie work, seeing the foals grow each year, their coats graying until they became silvery white with gray in their mane and tails, around their eyes and muzzles and dusty legs, no longer babies but full-grown beautiful beasts with minds of their own. 

Steve raised his hands in defense, eating one of the apples while sitting on the railing of the paddock. “I’ll help you catch her,” he said, by way of a peace offering. 

The other Valkyrie were having similar luck with their mounts, except for a red-head named Gunnvor who had a special knack and could keep her horse’s feet on the ground until she asked it to rise into the air. 

They prepared the mash and then called for the horse. “Bird! Hey, Bird, get back here,” yelled Valkyrie. The fact that she named her horse Bird still made Steve laugh. 

Steve heard a far-off whinny. He squinted into the sky, shading his eyes, spotting Bird’s big wings gliding toward them. Stepping back to avoid getting trampled on, Steve got out of the way of Bird’s four feet and enormous wings. Once on the ground again, Bird wasted no time sticking her head in the food trough. 

Sighing, Valkyrie trailed her hand down Bird’s steel-colored mane, scratching her withers. “Good girl,” she said. Steve knew Valkyrie might be constantly frustrated, but she loved that horse. 

Bird ate all of the mash, practically inhaling it up her nose, then proceeded to lick Valkyrie’s hands and then Steve’s hands, searching for any trace of apple. “That tickles,” said Steve. 

With no more excuses left, Valkyrie squared her shoulders and got back to work. First she started with both hers and Bird’s feet on the ground, joining together so that Bird mimicked her motions and followed Valkyrie everywhere she went. With just a few hand gestures, Valkyrie signaled for Bird to rear, to stand, to turn, to lie down. Then, taking a deep breath, Valkyrie grabbed a handful of mane, and swung onto Bird’s back. 

Bird shook out her wings and tossed her head, but Valkyrie stayed on. They walked, and then trotted, and then cantered around the arena. With a squeeze and a gentle tug, Bird lifted up into the air. 

Steve cheered. “Attagirl,” he called, shading his eyes to watch Valkyrie and Bird join Gunnvor and her horse Dis, flying in circles above Asgard. Soon, one by one, the other Valkyrie rose into the air. 

Bird flew lower, aiming for Steve. “Climb on,” yelled Valkyrie. 

“What? Are you crazy?” asked Steve. 

“Climb on, you ninny,” yelled Valkyrie, holding out her hand.

“Oh, God,” he muttered, but he poised himself, standing on the railing. As Bird glided close, he reached for Valkyrie, and leapt onto Bird’s back behind her. Bird’s wings flapped hard, and they climbed into the sky. 

The wind whipped past, and the sun shone bright over all of Asgard. They circled around to see the entire city. Steve could feel Bird’s chest expand with her breathing, her great wings rising and falling. He caught sight of Thor on the palace grounds, training with the Einherjar. 

Without urging from Steve, Valkyrie called to the others and they went into formation, swooping down to buzz over Thor’s head. Thor grinned and waved, the men cheering. They continued flying, over the docks and out over the water. With a whoop of delight, the horses flew close enough to the surface for their feet to drag, spraying sea water everywhere, before rising again, angling to return to the palace. 

Steve closed his eyes, just as he used to do when flying with Sam, so he could feel the pitch and sway, the sudden dive. 

Back on the ground, they gave all the horses more mash as a reward. Steve helped Valkyrie rub Bird down, taking a soft cloth and stroking her back and her sides. He laid a hand on her neck. “Thanks,” he said. “That was great.”

Bird, too busy eating, twitched her ears, and then shook out her wing as if she wanted Steve to tuck under it. 

~~

Steve had the same dream three nights in a row. In his dream, he saw Earth as it looked from space: big and round and blue. It looked peaceful, nestled in its blanket of stars, until giant tentacles reached around, encasing the entire planet. The tentacles started to squeeze, and the planet turned gray, crumbling to ash. 

With a start, he woke with his heart pounding. Thor slept next to him, the sheets and blankets tangled and bunched around both of them. The room was dark, but a combination of starlight and torchlight filtered in from the windows. Steve slipped from the bed, putting on a pair of pants and taking a throw blanket to wrap around his shoulders. 

It was the middle of the Asgardian summer, which meant spring-like weather and breezy nights, not too cold but with the hint of a chilly wind blowing from the north. He stepped onto the balcony, sitting sidesaddle on the ledge, with a view of Asgard’s lights, and the dark expanse of the sea below the twisted branches of starlight. 

The dream woke something in him that had lain dormant. He knew he couldn’t ignore it, although the pull to return to bed was strong, to slip in beside Thor close enough to hold him, to tangle their legs together, and wake the next morning as if the dream never happened. 

It didn’t take long, maybe fifteen minutes, before Thor noticed his absence from their bed, and came out onto the balcony to join him. 

Steve held out his arms, and wrapped the blanket around both of them. They nestled together on the ledge. 

“Can’t sleep?” asked Thor, leaning back to press his cheek to Steve’s. 

“I had a dream,” said Steve. “About Earth.”

In his arms, Steve felt Thor tense and turn to look at him. He went on to describe his dream, watching Thor’s gaze turn inward as he stared out to the sea. 

“I know this dream,” said Thor, with a soft release of breath. 

“You’ve had it too?” asked Steve, but Thor didn’t answer, continuing to watch the sea, and Steve knew he was searching the cosmos, looking across light years to Earth. More and more, with their years together, they shared dreams. 

“Would you like to see it?” asked Thor, turning to Steve again. 

“See what?” asked Steve, but as soon as he asked he knew what Thor meant. “You mean, see Earth? You can do that?”

Thor changed their position so that Steve was in front instead of the other way around. He felt Thor’s warmth press against him. 

“Relax,” murmured Thor, stroking up his bare back, right hand sliding up Steve’s neck. Thor’s fingers buried in his hair, and then he kissed the place where neck met shoulder, bringing his arm around Steve’s chest, hand over his heart. 

Steve blinked, and he knew he was looking through Thor’s eyes. At first he saw the same thing as before: Asgard at night and the sea and the starlight. Then, with a rush, he was traveling past stars and planets, twisting and turning, until he recognized his solar system and his planet, spinning in space, the bright unceasing yellow of the sun burning behind it. 

There wasn’t some kind of space monster eating the planet. He had known that already. The dream was a warning, not meant to be taken literally. Steve saw further, searching past continents, swooping down to North America, to the United States and then to New York, to Avengers Headquarters. There was an appearance of calm, but he could see tension on the faces of those that bore signs of being Avengers. He pulled out and turned to see more, searching through the entire planet, from Washington D.C. to Europe to Wakanda and back again. It wasn’t obvious -- it never was -- but he had too much history with Hydra not to recognize its insidious fingers tainting society. He continued to search until he saw, deep in the bowels of an abandoned building, a man with a star on his chest, carrying a shield. The man was in trouble, surrounded by men who hunted him, moments away from being caught. Steve flinched, felt a gunshot penetrate as Captain America took a hit and went down. 

Steve closed his eyes, and bowed his head. Thor kept his arm around Steve, but he shifted so they could face each other. Taking a deep breath, Steve lifted his gaze. Thor searched his face, a gentle crease between his eyebrows.

“He’s in trouble,” said Steve. 

Thor continued to study him, raising a hand to his face. “Yes,” he said. 

“That’s Hydra again,” said Steve, looking to the sea, as if the hydra from mythology could rise from its depths. “Somehow, they keep coming back. Just like they say they can. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Maybe it’s just human nature.”

“Probably,” said Thor. 

With his heart pounding, Steve felt tears sting his eyes. “Thor… I can’t just--I have to go back. I have to help him.”

Thor smiled, his eyes glistening. “Of course you do.” His brow creased further. “Steve, it was never my intention to keep you from Earth. It’s your home. If you wanted to return before, you could have. I didn’t--”

Steve shook his head. “I know. Thor, I know, believe me. I would have said something. I wasn’t ready before.” He looked back to the sea, as if he could see Earth on his own, but all he saw were the stars and black empty space. 

It wasn’t true to say he never thought of Earth, during his years on Asgard. He thought of Earth often, all the time. He thought of his friends, wondering what they would have thought of Asgard 2.0. He wished Natasha could have known Valkyrie. Every time he rode Bird, he thought of Sam and how much he would have loved it. He remembered Avengers Headquarters, working with a team, his team. He wished he could go for a run in Central Park, wished he could buy a hotdog and go to a ball game. He missed riding his bike. If he went into the north country, to visit the wolves, he thought of the Jabari. He thought of Bucky. 

But he had come willingly to Thor, and to Asgard, knowing what he was getting himself into. More or less. Thor was watching him anxiously. “Earth is my home, that won’t ever change. But this is my home now, too,” he said. 

Thor took his hand, and kissed it. 

“How long has it been anyway?” asked Steve. He’d never thought to ask this question before. Or perhaps more truthfully, he’d never stopped to consider it. He knew it had been decades since he’d come to Asgard.

“Close to sixty of your Earth years,” said Thor. 

Steve’s eyes widened. He shouldn’t be surprised. Bird and the other winged horses were long-lived, like their Asgardian partners, but Mossy had long since passed way. His current horse, a stallion named Feather, was Mossy’s grandson. 

Thor kissed him. “Wait here a moment. We don’t have a lot of time, and I have a gift for you.”

Thor went back inside but returned a second later carrying a shield. At first, Steve thought it was his shield, the one he used when they went off world, but as Thor brought it more into the light, he saw that it was entirely different. “What is that?” 

“I’m not sending you back to Earth without a proper shield. I had Eitri make this for you, on Nidavellir. I was waiting for the right to time to give it to you.”

“But…I’m not a god of thunder,” said Steve, shaking his head. 

“No,” agreed Thor, “But you are my…boyfriend. And you can lift Stormbreaker. That makes you more than worthy of a weapon -- or a shield -- such as this.”

Steve stared at Thor. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Thor might have been blushing, but it was hard to tell in the weak light. “What else would you call this?” he asked, indicating the both of them.

Steve both nodded and shook his head at the same time. “Boyfriend works,” he said. 

“Give the shield a try,” said Thor, holding it out for him.

He hesitated, afraid he would be unable to lift it, envisioning the shield crashing to the ground. But he placed his hands along its rim, and took it from Thor.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt goosebumps all along his arms. It was heavy, heavier than his old vibranium shield, but not because it weighed more. He remembered what it was like to hold Stormbreaker, like he could stop anything. 

“What’s it called?” he asked, admiring the design of the shield. He noticed that Eitri had used truwood to inlay a pattern, and that the handles were truwood, too. 

“Starborn,” said Thor. 

Starborn, thought Steve, and felt the shield vibrate in his hands. He turned to the open part of the balcony and faced the palace courtyard. He aimed, and threw the shield. It flew in a graceful arc, spinning. Unlike the vibranium shield, it didn’t bounce off walls, but instead skimmed close enough to cut a gash in each before flying around to return to Steve. He held his arm out and the shield turned mid-flight to come at him at the proper angle, sliding right onto his arm. 

“Can I fly with this thing?” asked Steve, running his hands along the rim again, but the metal was cool to his touch.

“I don’t know,” said Thor, grinning. “That’s for you to find out.”

Steve thought that probably meant he could, if he could figure out how. He was itching to try, but he didn’t have time. “Thor…I don’t know what to say.”

Thor shook his head, and then kissed him again. Steve brought his shield arm around Thor, putting everything he felt into the kiss. They had been parted before since Steve had come to Asgard, even for several months at a time, but this felt different. He had no time to prepare, to marshal his thoughts and feelings. All he could do was kiss Thor deeply, imprinting the memory into his skin. 

Steve dressed, choosing to wear a form-fitting tunic and a pair of snug pants similar to the clothing he’d first had when he came to Asgard. Thor wrapped himself in a cloak, and they held hands as they walked down from the palace to the docks, down to the Bifrost site. 

Steve stopped when he remembered Valkyrie. He hadn’t said goodbye. 

“She’ll understand,” said Thor, gently, leading him to the center of the circle. 

They stood together. Steve’s heart was beating wildly, not for fear of going but for not wanting to leave. “You’ll watch, won’t you?” 

“Every day,” said Thor. “When you’re ready, if you need me, all you need do is say my name.”

Steve almost kissed Thor again, but he knew if he did he might not leave. “I’m ready,” he said. 

They held hands for a moment longer, and then Steve let go and Thor stepped off the circle. "You know, I’ll probably say your name a lot more than just when I need you,” said Steve.

Thor smiled. “Same,” he said. 

Steve’s throat hurt with the many things he wanted to say. He wanted to reassure Thor that he would come back, that he was already missing him, that he would think of Thor every day and every night, that he loved him. Steve met Thor’s gaze, and he didn’t take his eyes off Thor as he lifted Stormbreaker, and the white, rainbow-tinted light of the Bifrost enveloped him, and sent him shooting through the stars. 

~~

The Bifrost dropped him deep underground, right in the middle of an interrogation. In the center of the room, tied to a chair sat the current Captain America, bleeding from a gut shot wound, his face bruised and swollen.

Stunned silence greeted him. The men were dressed in some kind of pseudo-military uniform, without name badges or serial numbers. “What the hell?” said the first goon nearest the bleeding Captain. 

“Fellas,” said Steve. He took his shield and aimed it at the man who’d spoken. It knocked him unconscious before traveling around the room, taking out half of the men. Steve handled the rest, punching one guy before kicking the other across the room. He grabbed one of their rifles and used the handle to head-butt two more before swinging it like a bat at the last man. 

It took less than thirty seconds, but Steve knew more men were on their way. The shield returned to his arm. The tied-up Captain America looked at him with wary confusion. Steve knelt and removed his gag. 

“Who the hell are you?” asked the Captain once he could talk. With a grimace, Steve broke apart the restraints on the Captain’s hands and feet, and then he took his helmet off so he and the Captain could look at each other properly. The Captain was a good-looking man with Asian features and dark hair, one eye bloodied and swollen. Recognition spread slowly across the Captain’s face. “Oh, my God,” he said. “You?”

“I’m Steve Rogers,” said Steve, trying to get a better look at the Captain’s wound. “I’m here to get you out. Does this place have medical supplies?”

Still not quite believing, the Captain continued to stare at him, but he winced as Steve pressed against the wound. “Over there,” he said, pointing to the other side of the room.

Steve hurried over, rummaging around until he found a standard first aid kit, but it contained a painkiller and a nanite-gun. It would have to do, until he got the Captain out of there. He could already hear the sound of more men approaching from both directions. 

He injected the painkiller and treated the wound as best he could. “Do your people know you’re down here?”

“Jesus Christ, man,” continued the Captain as the painkillers began to work, staring at Steve with growing bewilderment. “Where have you been? And was that the fucking Bifrost?”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” insisted Steve. He went to the fallen vibranium shield, hesitated a moment before picking it up and bringing it to the Captain. Still confused, the Captain locked it in place on his back. Steve held him around his waist, placing one arm across his shoulders. “Can you signal for extraction?”

The Captain blinked at him, but then shook his head. “Not from inside here. We’re like four, maybe five stories underground. A signal won’t get out. But the Widow knows I’m here. She’s not far, ordered to wait. If we can get up higher…”

Steve’s heart clenched, to hear that there was a Black Widow again. “All right,” said Steve, taking hold of his own shield. “Well, let’s hope this thing works then, huh?”

“What?” asked the Captain, staring at Steve and then at his shield. 

Just as men swarmed in from all sides, Steve crouched. With his shield raised over their heads, he leapt into the air. The shield pulled him up at great speed, and they crashed through one layer after another of concrete. Steve held on tight, grimacing each time they went through another floor, and by the time they burst through to open air, they were both yelling, the Captain cursing freely. The shield flew them clear of the building. 

The Widow, a woman in her late twenties with a mop of curly brown hair and light brown skin, picked them up outside the bunker, flying a jet that reminded Steve of those found in Wakanda. 

Much like her predecessor, the Widow took Steve’s return in stride with barely a raised eyebrow. “I guess I should thank you,” she said, helping to guide the Captain to the medical bay.

“Can you tell me what you were doing down there?” asked Steve. “Who were those men? What’s going on?”

The Captain and the Widow gave each other looks, exchanging words without speaking while the Widow was busy patching the Captain up. Their behavior with each other was so familiar that it made Steve instantly care for them, even knowing they didn’t trust him yet. Their distrust was natural. 

“What’s your name?” he asked the Captain, who was sitting up now, wincing but he seemed like he’d live. 

“That’s right,” he said. “We haven’t been introduced, have we? Shane Barton.”

“Barton?” asked Steve, looking at the Captain’s features more closely. “As in Clint Barton?”

“He was my great grandfather,” said Barton, eyeing Steve. 

Steve stepped closer. He remembered that Clint’s youngest, Nathaniel, had married a woman from Singapore. This must be Nathaniel’s grandson. He had the same build as Clint, and there was something about the spacing between the eyes, the way he smiled. He took Barton’s hand, the same hand he’d shaken so many times before, and he felt tears form in his eyes. “Of course you are,” he said, taking hold of Barton’s face, looking at him with wonder. “Of course you are.”

Something changed in Barton, a shift where his hesitancy vanished, and he gripped Steve in turn. They were family; it was that simple. 

During the short flight back to the compound, Barton quickly brought Steve up to speed.

*

His sudden return caused a bit of a stir. At first, no one but Barton believed he was really Steve Rogers, insisting that he was an imposter, or a clone, tricked out with plastic surgery or facemask technology. Maybe he was a robot. But Steve Rogers was probably the most physically recorded man in history, with genetic samples going back to World War II. With their advanced technology, they had no choice but to accept that he was the real Steve Rogers. Then, as the greater intelligence community got wind of his return and the compound played host to several different government officials and agency personnel, they questioned his motives. Where had he been all this time? Why had he left, in the first place? What were his reasons for returning?

He steadfastly refused to answer. “I’m here now, that’s what matters. And I’m here to help.”

“Come on, guys,” said Barton. “This is Steve Rogers. We all know the history. Do you really need him to go over it?”

Still suspicious, they stopped just short of taking him into custody. 

“Believe me, you don’t want to do that,” he said, calmly. Beside him, Barton was braced to start fighting. Black Widow stood with him, but the other Avengers were divided. Steve thought it would be just like him to come back to Earth and immediately start a civil war. Somewhere, Tony Stark was rolling in his grave. 

“Why?” asked the Director of the reconstituted SHIELD, a woman who reminded Steve more of Secretary Ross than of Nick Fury, except that he’d caught a whiff of desperation in her questioning. Steve had been taking mental notes with each interview, each new face he encountered. He’d been doing this a long time, had been in this fight since he was twenty-five years old back in 1943. He knew instinctually whom he could trust, and he knew he could trust this woman. “What are you saying you’d do if we did?” she asked.

He had a vision of Thor, in full God of Thunder mode, tearing through each building on Earth until he found Steve, and he was almost -- _almost_ \-- tempted to let it happen. “Let’s just say, you’ll regret it. Frankly you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Something flickered deep in her eyes as she looked at him, but she didn’t give anything away. She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t make me regret this,” she said. 

“No ma’am,” he said, with the hint of a smile. 

As it turned out, Barton’s solo mission into the bunker hadn’t been sanctioned by either the Avengers or SHIELD, something neither the Director nor the leader of the Avengers were too pleased about. 

“What,” said Barton, defensively. “I saw an opportunity, so I took it. I had backup. Turns out, I had more backup than I thought,” he added with a grin and an elbow jab at Steve. 

“It was reckless,” said the current Falcon, arms folded in front of him, looking very dour. Steve hadn’t gotten everyone’s names yet. He found it a little difficult to see the Falcon uniform on someone else. 

“People are dying,” said Barton, taking a more serious tone. “Do I have to remind you of that?”

On the flight over, Barton had laid it out for Steve. It wasn’t like last time, except that it was eerily familiar. Hydra, or the latest incarnation thought to be some kind of bastard child between Hydra and the continued remnants of the Children of Thanos cult, wasn’t planning to wipe out half of humanity in one go. Instead, they’d developed a weapons system using drones to target victims one by one. It had started about three months ago, and in that time over two thousand had died, once an hour every hour, all over the world.

“It’s supposed to be random,” said Barton. “You know, that same argument. Dispassionate. Fair. Everyone on equal footing. They don’t need someone like the Winter Soldier anymore. They don’t need Zola’s algorithm. This crosses all lines -- political, religious, whatever. In their propaganda, they say more die from disease or starvation on a daily basis, and this is a small price to pay. You could be at Starbucks, getting a coffee, and if the sightlines are right the barista behind the counter will drop dead. Shot through the head. Boom. Right out of nowhere. People are living in terror. Each time it happens, they’re grateful it’s not them. One hour it’s a world leader, the next it’s a four-year-old on a playground. The drones are automated, they’re not controlled individually. That bunker -- we had intel they might have control of the drones from that location, at least the ones for the east coast, but either I got there too late or, I don’t know, they got tipped off.”

“We were told to wait,” said the Falcon. “It wasn’t your call to make. Now you’ve lost our best lead in months.”

There was a tense stand-off between Captain America and the Falcon, the other agency personnel present shifting uncomfortably. 

“Listen,” said Steve, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Barton relaxed, and then the Falcon shifted to look at Steve. “I know I’m coming here late in the game, and you’ve got no real reason to trust me. But if I know anything about these guys, and believe me, I do know them -- whatever they call themselves now, they are the same -- they might say there isn’t another agenda, that it’s just this twisted Thanos cult, but they’re lying. They say they want order, but they’re really after the other thing: fear. This is how they take over.”

“Yeah, we know that,” said Black Widow. “What’s your point? I mean, do you have a plan? Why are you here?”

Leave it to Black Widow to call him on his bullshit. “Good question. We change the narrative. Use me as the target. Right now, they have all the power, they’ve got everybody right where they want you, terrified to step outside. We make a big splash in the press, say that I’m back, use all the public relation tricks that I’ve always hated my whole life, and we say that I’m hunting them, and that I‘ll get them no matter what, and I guarantee you they’ll come gunning for me hard, despite whatever they say about it being random. It’ll make them desperate, but then we control the story. They’ll make a mistake.”

They all stared at him. It was the director who spoke first. “That’s a crazy ass plan.”

He shrugged. “We have to flush them out somehow,” he said. “I’m open to other ideas.”

“You sure you can take the heat?” she asked. 

He gave her a look.

*

There was a list, updated with the names of each victim as their death occurred, transmitted through the Internet, across every social media platform. Every hour, Steve felt the tension from the compound staff rise to near breaking point, until their phones dinged and someone announced who had died, and then it would start again in the next hour. And these were trained professionals who worked in a high-tension environment, he could only imagine what it was like for the rest of the planet.

“People are wearing vibranium hats, and jackets and all kinds of protective clothing,” said Black Widow, whose name Steve learned was Jaina. Her mother was Wakandan, and Jaina had trained as a spy first and then later as a Dora Milaje, but she had been partly raised by her father in New York and had chosen to join the Avengers. “They cost a fortune. So there are many left vulnerable. But either way, the drones don’t discriminate, no matter the clothing; they are clever and find ways past the vibranium.” She looked at Steve. “Shane hasn’t been the same since Kevin died. They were very close. It took him time to recover.”

“Who was Kevin?”

“Our Iron Man. Killed on the first day. The drones use stealth bullets. His armor didn’t react fast enough. One hour later, they also took out the Queen of Wakanda, who by chance, by just this one small chance, wasn’t wearing the Black Panther suit at the time, and who knows, maybe it wouldn’t have been fast enough either. The world wasn’t on alert yet. Wakanda closed its borders, raised the shield around the city again. They still mourn. It’s only dumb luck they didn’t get Shane. They crippled us, that first week. We all know it’s not random. Those weren’t random.”

Steve studied her, feeling her exhaustion and pain. “So, they took out the two who had the best chance of stopping this quickly, and compromised the third one.”

She nodded. “Do you still want to go through with this?”

From where they stood, behind bulletproof glass on the atrium of the main Avengers building, they could see where the location for the press conference would be. Steve had insisted it be held outside, but with every precaution taken to protect the reporters.

“Absolutely.” He gave her a small smile. 

He shaved his beard and cut his hair so he could look recognizable to the public. Barton gave him one of his uniforms, but Steve shook his head. “I’m not Captain America. That’s you. I just need something familiar enough.”

They settled on a tactical uniform that had the same silhouette as Captain America. It reminded him of Bucky, during his White Wolf years. “It’ll do,” he said, taking it from Barton. They were alone, in Barton’s quarters, preparing for the press conference. “It’s just going to be me out there. No one else.”

“Yeah, right,” said Barton, laughing in his face. “Think again, pal. No way, no how.”

“Barton,” said Steve. “It’s okay.”

Barton looked directly at him. “Look, I know I’m not you--”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He took a quick breath. “I know what it’s like to lose--”

“I know,” Barton interrupted. “I know.” He lowered his eyes a moment. “It’s been rough. Maybe I dropped the ball on this. I’m not beating myself up about it. But there ain’t no way you’re going out there alone. Okay? So, can it.”

Steve wanted to push, but then realized he needed to give Barton this. “All right.”

Barton nodded. “Okay. And thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For coming back. I know you didn’t have to.”

*

Steve got a taste of what life was like on Earth in the current climate during the press conference. He could admit, at least privately to himself, that he wanted an attack, he wanted the no-face, unseen terrorists to try and take him out. He meant to goad them into it. So, it didn’t surprise him when in the middle of his speech announcing his return, with Barton on one side and the Director of SHIELD on the other, he sensed more than saw a flash of movement. Starborn moved on instinct, faster than a blink of an eye, and blocked the shot meant for the Director.

“Glad you decided to let me stay?” he asked her from behind the shield, smiling at her shocked expression as the reporters yelled and scattered, and Barton sprang into action to track the drone. Steve didn’t wait for an answer, taking Starborn and rising into the air. The drone was quick, and near invisible, but ultimately no match for him or Starborn, and he managed to grab it, punched it until it sparked and died. He brought the broken parts back down to the compound.

*

A news channel reported parents with their children, no longer afraid to step outside. “These brave parents,” said a news reporter, standing on the sidewalk as pedestrians walked behind her, “Have chosen to stare fear in the face today, as they head for the local playground for the first time in months. Holding hands, the children…”

“…The tide is turning,” said a man with a bowtie, reporting from a podium in front of a logo with a soccer ball. “In recent weeks, all outdoor sports events have been canceled, but in defiance of recent events, and honoring the change in atmosphere, today the Premier League is proud to announce a special game will be held between Manchester United and Arsenal…”

At an outdoor concert, a wild-haired, waif-like young pop star stood in front of a sea of fans and yelled, “It’s okay to be alive!” He held out his microphone, and the audience yelled in triumph. 

In the end, it was Barton and Jaina -- Captain America and Black Widow -- who figured out what needed to be done, and then did it. They stopped the drone attacks within the first week. A news team caught them on camera, tracking and infiltrating the complex inter-connected system that controlled the drones. 

“Can you tell us,” asked a news reporter, coming up to Steve and Barton in the aftermath of several thousand drones falling from the sky, crashing to the ground. They stood on the streets of New York City where someone had begun piling the disabled drones in a sort of pyramid in front of the old Avengers tower. “Is it truly over? Are we safe again?”

Steve stepped back from the camera, and let Barton take the question. This was his fight, his and Jaina’s and the other Avengers, and Steve was just there to assist, to give them the push they needed. 

Barton took a breath, then removed his helmet to glance up at the sky before looking into the camera. “The drones are down. We stopped that. But this isn’t over until everyone responsible for these attacks are taken into custody and made to stand trial for what they’ve done. That’s my promise.”

The video of his statement replaced the constant roll call of the dead. It spread through social media, on every television station across the globe, with stills of Captain America framed with the pyramid of disabled drones behind him.

*

Steve returned to Brooklyn. His apartment had been kept in trust for him, maintained by Sharon’s family. “It’s yours if you want it,” said the nervous young woman who was Peggy Carter’s great great great grandniece, awkward in his presence.

He didn’t know if he could live there, with all his memories, but he heard Bucky’s voice in his head telling him to stop being an idiot, and he gave the girl a smile. “Thanks. Why don’t you show me around?”

At night, he went up to the roof of his building with Starborn, and looked up at the stars. He’d forgotten, after so many years on Asgard, how few stars actually shone in the sky on Earth because of light pollution. He was homesick for Asgard in ways that he could never put into words, different than how he had missed Earth when he first left. It was a constant ache, sometimes dull, sometimes so sharp he needed to be alone so he could breath through it, so he could stop himself from saying Thor’s name. 

When Barton, the Director, and the Falcon found out that he’d gone outside onto the roof of his building, on his own, in the dark, with no backup and no other protection other than Starborn, they collectively yelled at him, in person and through every communication device possible, from email to text to kimoyo beads to a holographic phone call. He thought at one point Barton would send a carrier pigeon with a rolled up note tied to its leg cursing him out, and he’d have the pigeon poop on him to make his point. 

“You know, that’s supposed to bring good luck,” he said to Barton, who was not amused. 

“Dude,” said Barton, exasperated. “Please don’t do that. You are not invincible. And if you think I’m ready to have Thor come here and beat my ass, well you’re wrong. So, please. Don’t do that.”

Barton was the only one Steve had told about Asgard 2.0, about Thor. “All right,” he said. “I promise.”

If he closed his eyes, he sensed Thor watching from across the galaxies, and he could feel Thor’s amusement, his tenderness or anger, his affection or irritation. When he slept, Steve dreamed of Asgard’s wild coastline, of taking the horses galloping across the fields, of flying with Bird and Valkyrie and the others, of lying in bed with Thor, in the quiet of their room. 

He read up on history, on what he’d missed in the intervening sixty years. His reentry into modern society was smoother than last time. The world hadn’t changed as much as before, he thought, despite the superficial changes in fashion, new and bizarre social media and entertainment fads, and advancements in technology. Having traveled the galaxies, having seen all kind of advanced races and cultures, he took it all in stride. 

He visited Bucky’s grave, next to his mom’s. He visited Sam’s grave. He flew to Wakanda, and sat with the new, far-too-young king, who was little more than a boy. The young king had no aunt or uncle, so the Black Panther mantle went to a descendent of M’Baku until the king was of age. Wakanda still mourned, but they welcomed Steve back, and were slowly opening their borders again. Steve traveled to the Jabari with the new Black Panther and stayed there for a few weeks. It was a testament to how much he had changed, that he felt more at home in Wakanda -- especially with the Jabari, away from a big city -- than he did in Brooklyn, but they were each a part of him. 

At the Avengers compound, it took a while, but Steve eventually got to know and understand the Falcon better. His name was Jack Murray, an ex-Marine and long-time career military man, pushing fifty years old. He was not particularly friendly, or so it seemed, but late at night when no one else was around and it was just the two of them sitting in the lounge sharing a bottle of whiskey -- Jack’s drink of choice -- he told Steve what it had been like on the first day of the drone attacks.

“Kevin Ishida was…unique. He could be irritating. But he was a good kid.”

“If he was Iron Man, I wouldn’t expect anything different,” said Steve, noting the pain in Jack’s eyes that he tried to hide. Steve didn’t say it wasn’t Jack’s fault. Jack had more military experience than Steve did. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost a man under his command, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time. He poured Jack another drink. 

“Yeah,” said Jack with a laugh, picking up his glass. “I’m not sure I envy you. In your day.”

Steve briefly wondered which day was that. Which day was “his day?” It used to mean the 1940s. Now, it meant the age of the first Avengers, the Fall of Thanos. What would it mean in the future? “It was something else, that’s for sure. Tony was a lot of things. Unique is a good word, and still doesn’t hold a candle to what he was really like.” 

“I bet,” said Jack.

“Barton’s going to be okay,” said Steve, after a long, quiet moment passed. “You’re a good leader, Jack. You’ve got good people here. He trusts you. They all do. This will end, and something else will start, and you’ll all fight that as well, whatever it is.”

Jack looked at him, his pale eyes watery in the dark of the lounge. “And you? Are you going to stick around?”

Steve leaned back in his seat. He wouldn’t lie, but he wasn’t sure what he could say either. “I’ll see this through, I can promise you that much.”

“Good deal, I guess,” said Jack, and they toasted their drinks. 

Six months later, give or take a few days, Steve walked beside Captain America as they entered a downtown New York City building in the middle of Wall Street, accompanied by NYPD, FBI, and CIA personnel. In a coordinated effort with government agencies across the globe, they arrested six high-powered executives who worked at different companies, the masterminds behind the drone attacks. The arrests happened in sync, timed perfectly. 

The day started out clear and sunny, but as soon as they put the cuffs on Paul Whitby, CEO of Lerna Industries, cloud cover rolled in across the sky and there was a distant rumble of thunder. Steve felt the crackle of static electricity in the air, getting sparks each time he touched metal by accident. He couldn’t rush through the end, though. He stuck by Barton through the arrest, Whitby’s transport to a holding cell in Washington D.C., the subsequent meetings with the coordinated teams in Los Angeles, London, Mumbai, Mexico City, and Berlin, and then finally back to the compound for a late debriefing. It was almost full dark when he shook Barton’s hand, and said he was headed home to get some rest. 

“Good job,” he said, but Barton just waved him away. This wasn’t the kind of ending you celebrated, although Steve could see the stress lifting from Barton’s shoulders. 

“Get out of here,” said Barton. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He caught a lift back to Brooklyn, and then walked the few blocks to his apartment. It was a warm night, still holding an electric charge and the promise of rain that hadn’t come. The streets were full of people enjoying the warm evening, happy to be outside. Steve had an urge to run up the stairs to his apartment. 

He didn’t know what to expect. For Thor to be lounging on his couch, watching television in his armor and red cape, with Stormbreaker resting on the coffee table? Or maybe Thor would be in the bedroom? Or taking a shower? Instead, when he entered, the apartment seemed empty. 

“Thor?” he said, and then he heard a sound from the kitchen and saw Thor standing by the open door of his fridge, wearing a pair of Steve’s pajama bottoms and a stretched out old T-Shirt with a cartoon Hulk on it, leftover from a long ago day. Seeing him standing there was so much better than what Steve had been imagining that it left him dumbfounded. 

“You’re out of milk,” said Thor, closing the fridge door. 

“Right,” he said, finding his voice. “I’ve been a little busy. How long have you been here?”

“Hours,” said Thor, taking a step closer. He was barefoot, pausing to look nonchalantly at a picture Steve had stuck on his fridge of him and Barton and Jaina. “All day, it seems. You took a long time. What have you been up to?”

“Oh,” said Steve, taking one more step closer. “You know. Taking down bad guys, fighting robot drones, saving lives. The usual.”

Thor looked at him, dragging his eyes up Steve’s body slowly. Steve was still in his tactical uniform, knowing he would be in front of the cameras for most of the day. His cheeks grew warm by the time Thor got to his face. “I see,” said Thor, with a small smile. “Caught them all?”

“Every last one,” he said.

“And what about your little friend,” asked Thor, trying for casual. 

“My what? What friend?”

“Your friend. The one you spend all your time with. Captain America.”

Steve barked a laugh. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” said Thor, frowning in an entirely unconvincing way, shaking his head, shrugging. “Why would I be jealous? Jealous of what?”

“You do realize that Shane Barton is Clint Barton’s great grandson, right? You remember Clint. Barton’s practically my nephew. He’s like my own kid.”

Thor narrowed his eyes and closed the distance between them. Steve inhaled, with Thor close enough that he could smell his scent of apple blossoms and electricity and just the hint of spice. He was instantly hard. 

“I’d like to meet him,” said Thor, voice low enough to caress. He touched Steve’s face, a finger down his nose.

“All right,” said Steve, and he made a noise as their lips met. 

“Hm,” rumbled Thor, taking hold of Steve, kissing him all over his face and neck and then back up again. “I like you clean-shaven.”

Steve made another incomprehensible noise and they moved haphazardly through the living room to his bedroom. 

Thor was naked in a second, and they both struggled to get Steve out of his uniform, tumbling onto the bed. Steve made Thor go on his back, straddling him. “I’ve been dreaming of this for the past six months.”

He trailed a hand down Thor’s chest, following with his lips to Thor’s erection that nudged at his throat. Steve took hold of it, rubbed the tip across his lips, then breathed in as he took all of Thor in his mouth. Thor thrust up, none too gentle, grunting as he held Steve’s head in his grasp. It didn’t take long. Thor came in several sharp jabs, gasping as he dragged Steve up for a devouring kiss. 

“And I have been dreaming of this,” he said, cupping Steve’s cock. “I want you. Now.”

Thor wrapped his legs around Steve, angling so that Steve’s erection thrust against his balls. They didn’t have any Magic Asgardian Lube, but Steve lunged for his bedside table, scrambling around for lubricant. He slicked up his cock, barely taking any time to prepare Thor before he pushed in. 

He caged Thor with his arms, staring into his mismatched eyes. “I love you,” he said, kissing Thor’s eyebrows and his nose, caressing his cheekbones, a thumb across his lips. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Thor smiled softly at him. “Some things are worth the wait,” he said, holding Steve close, groaning as Steve thrust into him, their mouths pressed together. Distantly, Steve registered that rain blew in from the open window and that he felt raindrops sprinkle lightly on his back, thunder rumbling from far away rolling closer. 

He watched Thor come again, and then Steve pressed his forehead against Thor’s, and thrust hard until he came, shaking in Thor’s arms. They lay nestled together until the rain subsided. 

“I have something for you,” said Thor. The room was dark. Steve hadn’t turned the lights on in their rush to get to the bedroom, but the light from the kitchen could be seen through the open door, and there was a light outside his window, casting shadows across the room. 

Steve turned to look at Thor. “Hm, I think having you here is present enough.”

Without a word, Thor kissed him on the nose and then left the bed, heading first for the bathroom before returning. Steve rose up to watch Thor search through his things. He hadn’t noticed Thor’s armor and boots in the corner. He came back into bed, making the mattress bounce as he changed position to face Steve. In his hand he held a small velvet pouch. 

Steve’s heart began to pound, and he sat half way up. Thor turned the pouch upside down and two rings fell onto his palm. 

“It’s tradition on Midgard, to give rings at a proposal. Isn’t it?”

Steve stared at Thor, completely mute, his mind blank. The two rings caught the meager light in the room, gleaming. 

“These are made of uru. The same metal as Stormbreaker and Starborn. And Mjolnir. I had Eitri make them for us.”

Steve still didn’t move, staring with his mouth hanging open, frozen solid, although he could feel the cool breeze from the window, and could see Thor peering at him anxiously. 

“I messed this up, didn’t I?” said Thor, with a grimace, still offering the rings to Steve. “Valkyrie told me not to mess this up. She was very stern. Don’t mess this up, she said. Are rings not the thing anymore? Should I have done something else? Go down on my knees? I heard of a man who stood outside his love’s window with a song. I could do that?”

Somewhere near Steve’s right shoulder, he heard Sam whisper. “How long you gonna keep the man hanging? He’s about to lose his mind. Steve, man, you might want to take care of that.” On his other side, he felt Bucky lean in. “All right. I guess he’s serious. I mean, look at him. You could do worse. Only the good stuff, Steve. I think you better kiss him.”

Before Thor could say another word, Steve folded his hand over Thor’s, encasing the rings between their palms. “Yes,” he said, and then kissed him. With a cry of delight, Thor wrapped his arms around Steve in a crushing embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr, where I mostly reblog things that make me laugh.
> 
> Please [reblog](http://hafital.tumblr.com/post/175747221120/starborn-hafital-multifandom-archive-of-our) if you're so inclined. Thank you for reading!


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